


Submission to Darkness

by Madriddler



Series: Darkness Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark Arts, Dark Harry, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub, M/M, Mentor Voldemort (Harry Potter), Sub Harry, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 74,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: A choice decision in the graveyard leads Harry down a path no one expected for him. Now with new allies and new enemies, Harry must balance between the Light and Dark Arts as he fulfill his new role as Lord Voldemort's heir, as well as fight for the heart of the boy he loves. Wanting nothing more than to serve, Harry will find a strength in submission and power in love. Dark!Harry





	1. Submit

Submission to Darkness

Ch. 1

Submit

_“Kill the spare!”_

“No!”

Harry moved without thinking, running towards Cedric before the hooded stranger with the bundle in his arms could get him. His wand in a tight grip, Harry jumped towards Cedric, and a gravestone near them sprung into the air, taking the killing curse for them as they fell to the ground. His scar exploding with pain, Harry could barely see what was around him. He and Cedric fell behind a tombstone, however somehow the older boy became unconscious. He knew that the short man in the cloak was coming closer, and he had to do something before he reached Harry and Cedric. Gritting through the pain, Harry jumped up suddenly, and screamed out “ _Avada Kedavra!”_

The Killing Curse shot from Harry’s wand like a bullet leaving its chamber. Whizzing through the air, the silent killer missed its mark, instead the curse exploded into a tombstone near the hooded figure, shattering it to pieces. His head burning too much to take another shot, Harry fell next to Cedric. Through the pain, harry felt himself being pulled to his feet.

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it.

TOM RIDDLE

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man hit him—hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood.

“You!” He growled at Wormtail.

Wormtail did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn’t move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry’s mouth; then, without a word, he turned from harry and hurried away

Harry looked around frantically for his wand while Wormtail busied himself somewhere out of his view. He looked towards Cedric’s body, still unconscious some twenty feet away. _Don’t wake up, please stay sleeping,_ Harry begged silently. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. Harry’s wand was on the ground at Cedric’s feet. The bundle of robes was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched it, and his scar seared with pain again.

 _That’s where he is…_ Harry thought. _Have to kill him somehow before he kills us._

Wormtail came back moments later, pushing a heavy large stone cauldron into Harry’s view. It was full of what seemed to be water—harry could hear it slopping around—and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

Harry quickly looked at the bundle of robes and through the pain in his scar, began piecing the two mentally. He struggled, his tongue pushing against the forced cloth in his mouth, opening and closing his mouth and moving his jaw until he was able to spit it out as Wormtail emptied the robes into the stone cauldron. “Wormtail!” He called out.

Wormtail stopped and turned to Harry, scared. Harry’s scar was burning almost pass his endurance, but he gritted through it. “I’m going to kill you Wormtail!” Harry yelled. “Let that monster drown, or else I’ll make it last!”

Wormtail’s voice shook; he was frightened beyond his wits. But not of Harry, of Voldemort in the cauldron. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. _“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”_ The surface of the grave at Harry’s feet cracked. A fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. Sparks were sent in all directions.

“Stop it Wormtail! You will die!” Harry warned. “I missed the first time, but I won’t miss the second!” He did not know where this sudden feeling was coming from, however the angrier he got, the less the pain dulled in his scar. Growling and struggling like a captured animal, Harry continued to threaten Wormtail, who was now whimpering. He pulled out a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

_“Flesh—of the servant—w-willingly given—you will—revive—your master.”_

He stretched his right hand out in front of him—the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Harry watched with great intensity, his anger making him stoic as Wormtail brought the knife down. His scream pierced the night as the hand fell to the ground. Wormtail had to pick it up through anguished panting and dropped it into the cauldron. “I hope that hurts,” Harry snarled. “Every bit of pain you feel will be nothing compared to when I get free.”

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony as he forced himself towards Harry. The knife was in Wormtail’s remaining hand. _“Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe.”_

The point penetrated the crook of his right arm and blood seeped down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry’s cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staged back to the cauldron with Harry’s blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The diamond sparks in the cauldron exploded all at once before simmering into nothingness. Harry watched through gritted teeth as though the mist, Harry saw an outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry …and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

“Harry… I do believe I heard you promised to kill my servant,” Voldemort said. Their eyes still connected, Harry felt a pain in his head, far deeper than before, originating from somewhere unknown as Voldemort hissed softly. “Yes… plenty of anger indeed… so much darkness that Dumbledore does not know about. So much anger… and a want to submit, but to who?” Voldemort stepped towards Harry. The boy tried to struggle but for some reason he couldn’t turn away. All he could do was to stare at Lord Voldemort’s red eyes as the monster continued to his into the air. The feeling delved deeper inside Harry. He couldn’t understand it.

“Hmm… men is it, powerful men… even though you have power that you are too scared to use… power that…” Voldemort’s lips curled and Harry felt a hateful shiver go down his back. “Harry Potter… you do not have to die here, tied to my father’s grave. I can see your darkness, boy. I can see your willingness to submit… and your hunger to learn. I can help you there, Harry. I can show you the beauty in the shadows… the power in the darkness. Follow Dumbledore’s path, and you will never have _him_ … he will never know you… and you will die alone. However, I can save you Harry, think of it, wouldn’t it be better to live and learn by me and have the chance to submit to him… receive all you can from him instead of dying alone?”

Harry didn’t know what happened. The more Voldemort talked, the hazier his head felt. His anger was slowly being striped away small layers at a time, along with the pain from his forehead. The things Voldemort was saying was starting to make sense, in fact they were starting to become preferable. He did not want to die, far from it. He was scared of dying, just as he was scared of being alone. He didn’t know how Voldemort could find all this out, however he knew… he knew Harry’s darkest desires, Harry’s preferences… and the more he talked about them, the more Harry wanted to agree.

“I can make you into the perfect one for him, and yourself. Take the darkness within you and mold it into a being more powerful than you or Dumbledore could ever dream of! Join me, Potter, and you will have everything.”

Harry did not realize that the rope tying him to the tombstone was done, nor that he was now standing in front of the Dark Lord. All that mattered was the hazy feeling inside his head, mixed with thoughts of the boy he loved. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. He wanted him, wanted to submit to him… he was scared of losing him… even if the boy Harry loved did not know his attraction. There was also the power behind the Dark Arts, the sense of thrill Harry felt when he casted the Killing Curse, and the morbid fascination that that spell was his first choice out of instinct.

His eyes had both a sharp yet glassy look as he looked up at Voldemort. The older man smirked victoriously down at Harry. “Bow, Potter, show me your allegiance to the Dark Arts, and I will lead you to him.”

Harry found himself moving slowly, his knees lowering as clarity started to come from the fog. He stopped but only for a second before continuing to bow in front of the Dark Lord. _I don’t want to die, and this is the only way to love him,_ Harry thought. He knelt fully in front of Lord Voldemort; his head slightly downcast.

“My… so you’ve been practicing your kneeling, haven’t you Potter?” Voldemort mocked. “Stay.” Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently; and then raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the tombstone Harry was once tied. Harry kept his head down, staying in place until he was told otherwise. The twins told him that this was how good subs acted, and now he had the chance to be one.

“My—my Lord…” Wormtail choked, “My Lord… you promised… you did promise…”

“Hold our your arm,” Voldemort said lazily.

“Oh Master… thank you, Master…” He held out the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed.

“Your other arm, Wormtail.”

“Master please… please…”

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow, and Harry glanced over to see something on the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo—a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth—the same image Harry saw floating in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: The Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping.

“It is back,” he said softly, “they will all have noticed it… and now, we shall see … now we shall know …” He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail’s arm and Wormtail let out a fresh howl of pain. The mark on his arm turned jet black. A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard. “How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”

His eyes fell on Harry. “Stand, boy.”

He obeyed, ignoring the pain as he stood to his feet, his head still looking down. “Look at me.” He finally looked up. “You seem a natural Harry,” Voldemort chuckled, his red eyes twinkling with a forbidden knowledge Harry wasn’t privy to. “You did not scream or try to escape… I feel you should be rewarded.”

“Thank you, Sir,” slipped out of Harry’s mouth before he could even think of a response. _It’s coming so naturally,_ he thought, _will it be the same with him?_

“Go get your wand, Potter, and hold your head high,” Voldemort commanded.

Harry nodded, he moved silently towards Cedric and knelt down to pick up his wand, quickly checking to see if Cedric was still breathing. _Good, stay sleeping, please, this will all be over soon,_ he thought as he stood up, wand in hand. He returned to Voldemort.

“I believe you’ve mentioned something about killing Wormtail,” Voldemort said, amused. “His usefulness has just run out. Take care of him. Think of all the woe he has caused you… your parents… Black and Lupin. All those lives he destroyed from his own cowardness. He is too weak to live Harry… end him.”

Harry did not need any more encouragement. His thoughts on Sirius and Lupin, he raised his wand and aimed it directly at Wormtail. He did not notice the air around them, now suddenly full of swishing cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward… slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their yes. Harry ignored all of this as he said with such anger, and such malice that it broke his soul and heart, “ _Avada Kedavra.”_

A burst of green light, and Wormtail was dead. Voldemort’s chuckles filled the air. Harry felt Voldemort’s hand on his shoulder. “Good… good Harry,” he said. “Now… take the cup and leave. I will contact you later.”

Harry nodded and went towards Cedric’s body. Before Voldemort could object, or even notice, and before the Death Eaters could comment on Harry, he fell on Cedric’s body, holding tightly as he whipped his wand towards the Triwizard Cup, “ _Accio!”_

The cup went flying towards Harry. He caught it, and they were gone. The graveyard vanished in front of them, as he felt the familiar tightening sensation of using a Portkey. His hazy mind and exhaustion reached up to him as he and Cedric fell in front of the roaring crowd in the Quidditch Pitch. He remembered yelling about Voldemort being back, about looking frantic about it. He and Cedric were rushed to the hospital wing but Professor Moody intervened. Harry remembered Dumbledore bursting in… Moody becoming someone else, but he couldn’t keep track as his hazy mind kept him from focusing. It was as though he was in a tired, dream shuffling foot to foot towards some unknown destination.

The next moment he was conscious, Harry saw that he was in the Hospital Wing. Cedric was up next to him, it was late at night, well pass midnight. “Harry… Harry, are you up?” Cedric asked.

“Hmm…yeah,” Harry groaned.

“What happened?” Cedric asked. “The cup, it was a portkey, right? There was a guy there, what happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry said, his head becoming clearer and clearer. He sat up straighter and turned to look at Cedric more clearly. “If you can’t sleep, I’ll tell all of it.”

“Yeah,” Cedric nodded. “I want to understand what happened.”

“Well,” Harry sighed, “It began before the Third Task, Cedric. It all started with my love of Draco Malfoy.”


	2. Ownership

Chapter 2

Ownership

“I knew I was in love with Draco by the end of my third year. It was after Hermione punched him in the nose. Before that, I couldn’t keep him out of my mind and it wasn’t until a week before that, when I walked into two boys snogging that I realized being gay actually exists and is an option. So, I’ve simply realized that I am gay. I don’t care for women, I can’t stand faking talking about them like the rest of the boys do around me, I usually just tone out and say something like ‘they have huge tits’ or ‘I think vaginas are pink.’ I never really thought about girls naked, and I don’t really want to. Instead I like thinking about men naked, their bodies stiff and their muscles hard, and their dicks even stiffer. You know how it is in the locker rooms after a Quidditch match, Cedric, no decency between the boys in the showers, so I was able to catch a couple looks. Fred and George actually caught me a couple times but said or did nothing about it. Not that I wanted them to because I am in love with Draco Malfoy. Like any teenager, I wanted to act on it however I never got the chance. One, because it was Malfoy, and he did not exactly like me at that particular moment, him being him and me being me, and the other being the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. I knew that I, being the way I was, had no chance getting Draco at all. Too many different values, too different personalities. If we somehow got together last year, we would be arguing constantly, and I did not want to argue with the boy I love every second of the day.

“So, during the summer, I started to do research both on Pureblood Society, and things that Draco would find interesting. I had no one to help me on this front, so it was a challenge. I swear I’ve learned many useless and boring information, and very old traditions that I’m sure died away, yet still called at me for some reason. One of them being the submissive marriage clause, which claims that when there is a relationship where there is an obvious submission the woman to her man, (you have to remember these were written before a time when society believed and accepted that us gays existed) they are to be wed immediately with a special set of rings showing that submission. This clause is the only thing that can go against marriage contracts or arranged marriages. Wizards believed back then that submissive women made for better wives and produce better off-springs. Well, I hope I don’t need to tell you how wrong that is, and how utterly backwards that thinking is, however I just couldn’t get it out of my head. At this point I love Draco, yet I never thought about submitting to him. I thought we were simply hung out together, holding hands, kissing, relaxing against each other. I had no idea or any concept of sex until Fred and George told me about it. I mean, I knew our dicks get hard, but I didn’t know why or for what purpose.

“Anyway, during the summer I spent researching Pure-blood society, to figure out a way into it and into Draco’s arms, when I started reading other kinds of books. Books of spells, of magic, spells that would give men a working uterus, spells that would bind two people together… and I just kept reading these. They were considered Dark Spells, I was reading about Dark Magic! Well, you can imagine my shock when I found out about that. Yet… I don’t know, even though I knew it was Dark Magic, I kept on reading about it. It seemed like the least dangerous of Dark Magic, barely Dark and seriously not evil, so I felt that by reading it I’m not becoming a Dark Wizard, I’m just learning about magic that isn’t used anymore. I guess this magic wasn’t very well known, it was in a battered book hid in the back left forgotten in the store after all, but still, I felt I was learning about Draco’s society, about a way to get close to Draco so, in my eyes, it was worth it.

“Then, the Quidditch World Cup happened and—well you were there, I don’t need to talk about it, but anyway it was around that time, after the chaos, that Fred and George learned about my love for Draco. We were back in the Burrow and they overheard me muttering about Draco. ‘Listen to this George, our little Harry is in love,’ Fred said. ‘Yeah, little Harry loves slimy Malfoy it sounds like,’ George said. It wasn’t malicious, more like their usual prankster tone. I stood tall and admitted it, however that only got them even more interested. ‘What about Malfoy do you like about him?’ Fred asked. ‘How are you going to get him?’ George wanted to know. So I told them.

“’His hair, his statue, his body, his confidence, his everything,’ I confessed. ‘I love his cocky attitude, how he towered over me at times, the face he makes when I beat him in Quidditch. One time we bumped into each other and I’ve had a taste of his smell and it was lovely. I know he is awful personally; I know he is a prat, however I still love him. So much so that I’ve read about old Pureblood society in order to find a way to get to him.’ My answer surprised the twins and they agreed to help me. I asked how, but they didn’t tell me at the time, instead just telling me to be patient and don’t ask again until they come to me. So I didn’t, and time went on.

“It wasn’t until the middle of October that they came back to me about it. This was a week or two before the other schools came here, Cedric. They cornered me in the Gryffindor common room and dragged me away to an isolated place. ‘We have the solution to your problems, Harry,’ Fred said. ‘We know what you are and how you can get your man!’ George said happily. I asked what they meant, and George said, ‘Well from what you told us, you want to be kinky Harry!’ ‘Or,’ Fred said, ‘You have desires to enter into a relationship that, compared to others, seem off or weird. What we mean is that you are naturally a submissive.’ I was confused, so I asked them what exactly they meant. It was a long explanation, they told me about dominant/submissive culture, sex, it was very awkward and very, uhh, well you know, don’t you Cedric?

“Anyway, I started to do my own research into sex and submissiveness, finding and talking with whoever I can, Fred and George helped a lot, and before I knew it, it was Halloween and a target was painted on my back when I was picked as the fourth champion. Everyone thought I cheated in, including you, remember, and my best friend dumped me out of jealousy. It hurt, however soon I was too worried about facing the dragon in the First Task. But still in that time, I don’t know why but I never given up my studies. Instead of paying attention in History of Magic, I’ve read the books I’ve brought… as well as fantasize about Draco. He has a very demanding presence, you know, and very demanding voice. And in my fantasizes… Draco would tell me to do things, things that Fred and George told me about, and I would practice them when I’m alone.

“He would tell me to do sexual things, as well as practice the Dark Arts in my mind. But it was never the evil stuff you know, just the stuff that I found in that book. Never the evil stuff, I never wanted to touch the Unforgivable Curses… never wanted to harm someone.

“The First Task was tough… well, you know personally how tough it was, Cedric, however it was harder for me. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Draco, I didn’t want to die in front of him. So I did all I could, flying around, however by the end of it I knew that I needed to learn more afterwards. So I did something I never thought I would… I’ve delved deeper into the dark arts. The more I learned… the more I understood that I knew nothing.

“I stole books from the library, deep in the restricted section, to learn as much as I could. I felt I was both getting closer to Draco and something else. I can’t describe it. I still avoided the dangerous spells as a moral but still… the things I’ve learned Cedric, they were incredible. But it was far from really knowing anything… like I was barely scratching the surface, but I was content with that. I felt I was close to Draco with this, closer than I ever was…

“When I heard about the Yule Ball, I was both very excited and also scared. Especially since Professor McGonagall told me that I _have_ to dance the opening and walk in with a date. I so much wanted that to be Draco, but I didn’t know how to approach him. I simply couldn’t walk up to the prat and declare my love to him! That would be too embarrassing… and too much for both of us. And I was scared, you know. I mean what would happen if he was straight? Would his bullying increase? Would he spread the news that I’m gay? At that moment, the risks just were too much for me to take a chance. So, finding no one else, I’ve brought Parvati Patil… and that was a complete disaster. I mean, Ron and I were forced to watch others dance because I was too scared to ask Draco… and Ron’s too pigheaded at times. We left after our dates ditched us and went outside for a walk. Where we overheard Professor Snape and Karkaroff talking about something coming back… thinking back on it, I think I know what they were talking about, however I don’t want to tell you yet, Cedric. Anyway, on Christmas the next day, Fred and George demanded an update report on what happened the night before. They were a little frustrated that I didn’t tell Draco, or go to him, or even try… however I yelled back at how afraid I was of the consequences if he said no. That was when George told me something, I still don’t really understand. ‘Harry,’ he said, ‘in a Dominant/submissive relationship, you, the submissive, hold all the power. You are the one to call the shots, who decides how far to take it, and who decides when it ends. If you really want this relationship with Malfoy, go and create it. Don’t wait for him to come to you, it just doesn’t work that way.’ I mean, I get the obvious parts, you know like going after Draco, and not waiting for a relationship to happen. What I don’t get is the submissive having the real power, not that it matters much, I suppose.

“With the disaster of the Yule Ball behind us, the second task was drawing nearer and nearer. You’ve helped me there, Cedric, with the bath, that’s where we both learned the mystery of that damn egg… and led to the Second Task. I was scared that they would take Draco and my secret love would be broadcasted to the world, but thankfully they took Ron instead… however Hermione was down there too. That’s why I was the last one there, I wanted to save them all. Anyway, I thought that after the second trial, I would get Draco’s attention, that I could somehow manipulate ways to get him to notice me positively… I was wrong. Skeeter’s article about my ‘Secret Love’ came out after that, and it was all bullocks. I’m not straight, yet I was too scared to admit it… you’re actually the third person I’ve told Cedric. Not even Hermione or Ron knows. They should, they’re my best friends I should tell them… I had the opportunity yet I… never mind, I’m getting sidetracked.

“The days went on, and I found myself practicing. Spells that aren’t exactly dark, yet aren’t exactly legal, kneeling with my head down, imagining Draco giving me orders or Draco and I just cuddling together. Then June came, and with it the Third Trial. I’ll spare you the details about what happened in the maze, I’m sure you can remember them Cedric, instead we’ll go straight to the moment we touched the Triwizard Cup together.

“Someone placed my name in the Goblet of Fire, someone who wanted me dead… and who wanted me to win also, all so I can be at that graveyard tonight. They turned the Cup into a portkey and teleported us to the graveyard. However, they only wanted one… me. They didn’t account for you, you almost died Cedric. They casted a Killing Curse and, by some miracle, I was able to push you out of the way while a gravestone jumps up to take the blow. You were knocked unconscious by the action, and I became very dizzy.

“I was dragged from you, tied up to a tombstone by the hooded man who tried to kill you. He was a Death Eater, the man who betrayed my parents and led to their deaths, a rat of a man named Peter Pettigrew. Yes, I know, he supposedly died years ago by Sirius Black’s hands… that’s wrong. I’ll explain later, all you need to know was that Wormtail, that’s a nickname he had, was there… along with Lord Voldemort—please don’t jump! Wormtail used my blood and his own hand… along with the bones from Voldemort’s father to resurrect the Dark Lord. After that, it becomes blurry. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there with you. I… I think we fought. Somehow, Wormtail was killed and I used that to run to you Cedric. I summoned the cup and we were gone.

“Hmm… after that I remember screaming, loud noises. I just wanted to sleep, to try and just figure out what happened. Dumbledore was by us; they were bringing you to the Hospital Wing, but Professor Moody took me away to his office alone. We talked… he was too keen on Voldemort, I think… I can’t remember much, it’s all just noise after we returned. Dumbledore barging in… McGonagall and Snape with him. I think… I remember seeing Moody change, but I didn’t understand it. He was a Death Eater in disguise as Moody. However, that catches us up. The Death Eater pretending to be Moody is locked away somewhere, you and I are safe and Voldemort is back. What happens next is anyone’s guess… but I can tell you that I am scared.

“… What time is it? I haven’t noticed I’ve talked that long, sorry Cedric. We both need our sleep I suppose. I’m happy that you’re safe at least, I wouldn’t know what would happen if you die. Anyway, I think we should go to sleep now, my throat is sore, and I have a feeling we’re going to be interrupted by other people in the morning. Huh? Yeah, I’m fine, are you feeling okay? Did I talk to much? I’m sorry if I did, it’s just this is the first time I felt this way, did the things I’ve did and… I’m happy that I was able to put it to words. Good night Cedric, I hope you have a nice long sleep. … God knows I don’t deserve it.”


	3. Obey

Ch. 3

Obey

The Dark Lord was alone. He was in the ruins of Riddle Manor, the place his muggle relatives once called home, contemplating on recent events. He had regained a body, and in the process lost a servant but gained Potter. He was surprised to find the darkness within the boy, as well as a natural sense of submissiveness. Instead of killing the boy instantly, the Dark Lord decided to play with him, and it turned out the be the more interesting call. The boy shows promise and talent, though raw at the moment Lord Voldemort was certain that he can refine both it and the boy into a being of his satisfaction. In fact, the more the Dark Lord thought of the ways he could train and change the Potter boy, the more excited he began. _To take Dumbledore’s shining boy and turn him into my perfect soldier… surely there will be no greater victory,_ the Dark Lord chuckled to himself.

And then there was the issue with Malfoy. The want for the young Malfoy heir was obvious in Potter’s mind, though it was a want of dominance from him. It surprised the Dark Lord that Potter wanted to be dominated so thoroughly and completely by the Malfoy brat, however if being conquered by Draco is the price the Dark Lord must pay for his experiment, then he will pay for it. In his time inside Potter’s mind, Voldemort only saw a brief excerpt of the effort Potter went to learn about Malfoy’s culture.

He wondered what his first lesson should be for the Potter boy. Sitting in an armchair by a roaring fire, Voldemort looked outside a nearby window to see the sun starting to slowly rise. “There will be time for that later,” he said to himself. Slowly he stood and walked towards the rising sun. “For now, we should keep back and see how the world reacts to my return.”

 

Cedric did not come to Harry about what he had revealed in the Hospital Wing until the very last day of term. “Harry,” he called out. The boy stopped and turned to him. “Hey…”

“Hello Cedric, how are you feeling?” Harry asked.

“Better, thank you,” Cedric said. He gave a sigh and looked around, “that was something in the hospital wing, ehh? You and the Minister yelling at each other?”

“Yeah,” Harry grumbled irritably. “I tried to warn him that Voldemort is back, and he doesn’t believe anything! Even when Snape showed him his Dark Mark!”

“Yeah,” Cedric frowned. “And actually, I wanted to talk to you about the story you told me… if we can speak in private?” He pointed towards a nearby broom closet. Harry nodded and the two moved side. It was little, their knees were pressed against each other as they sat down on upside-down buckets.

“What is it you wanted to talk in private about?” Harry asked.

“A couple things,” Cedric said. It was then that Harry saw that Cedric was looking nervous. “You liking boys and uhh… that stuff you studied.” His cheeks were red, and Harry felt a little uncomfortable. Cedric said this and quickly said, “No, no, no! Not like that! I mean—I don’t—I’m not homophobic! In fact, uhh… I kind of like boys, you see, and girls. I thought I was the only one here who did…”

“Cedric—”

“I’m not coming onto you Harry, no, no,no… I mean, I hope you didn’t think that that’s why I wanted you to come in here,” Cedric rambled awkwardly. Harry thought it was cute and shook his head. “Whew good… what I wanted to say is that I wanted to thank you Harry, for letting me know that I’m not alone…”

“You’re welcome Cedric,” Harry said softly. Cedric smiled and looked up at Harry. “So… Malfoy?”

“Yeah, Malfoy,” Harry nodded.

“Well, looking at his hair I’m sure he’s gay,” Cedric joked, “boy looks to spend more than two hours with it.”

Harry chuckled and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m certain he’s gay too… I’m just not certain if he’ll like me.”

“What do you mean?” Cedric frowned. “I mean yeah he’s a git and such, but you’re amazing Harry! Give him time and maturity and I’m sure he will.” He pressed his knee against Harry’s in a supporting way and the two shared a secret smile. “There’s uhh one more thing I wanted to talk about with you, also,” Cedric said.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Well… you talked a lot about this dominant and submission stuff… and I know nothing of it,” Cedric said. “Where did you learn it from?”

“The Weasley Twins,” Harry said.

“Fred and George? Huh…” Cedric said. He thought a thoughtful expression, but Harry didn’t ask about it. Instead, he had a question himself he wanted to ask the handsome boy.

“Cedric, does it bother you… when you heard that I studied the Dark Arts?” he asked. “At least the spells I did…”

“Honestly, a little,” Cedric said. “But I know you’re a good man Harry,” he continued. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah… I do,” Harry said, but there was some uncertainty in it. Cedric didn’t notice it, instead giving him an honest smile as he stood up and opened the door.

“Well, I have a set of twins to find,” he said innocently, “have a good summer Harry.”

“Yeah, you too Cedric,” Harry said.

“Don’t worry about Malfoy, I’m sure he’ll grow up and come around, see ya,” Cedric said. He patted Harry’s shoulder and walked away, leaving the boy to himself to wonder to himself.

Harry did not know how long he was standing there before he snapped out of his thoughts and got out of the closet. The Hogwarts Express would leave soon, and Harry definitely did not want to miss it. He rushed out of the castle, quickly mixing with the large group of students who were traveling down to Hogsmeade Station. On the way, he found Ron and Hermione and they joined the long, slow task of boarding the Express for the summer holidays.

“I saw you and Diggory together,” Ron said as they boarded, “what did you two talked about?”

“Just some things that happened that night,” Harry said, he glanced around for the boy but couldn’t find it, “Honestly, it’s something between him and me,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Ron shrugged. They found an empty compartment close near the end of the train and took it for their own. As soon as they all their luggage in the compartment, Hermione stood up to excuse herself. As soon as she came in, both Fred and George barged in looking rather mad. “Ron!” George yelled out, and the two grabbed the youngest male Weasley and pulled him out. And just like that, Harry found him strangely, coincidentally, alone. Then he felt something by his foot. He looked down and let out a scream.

A black snake, darker than a shadow, slithered out from under the seat. There were no details on the snake, but Harry did notice that its tail was wrapped around a small scroll. Upon seeing the scroll, any and all fear seemed to leave Harry as he bent down to pick it up. The snake loosened its hold and waited as Harry read.

_Potter_

_This snake is known as a Shadow-walker, a creature with no clear shape nor form that dwells in all shadows. Shadow-walkers are dark creatures and will be used as our main way of communication until I have you in my dwelling. You do not have a mark, and such you cannot Apparate to my side at my calling, these creatures will act in replace of a mark and will lead you to me at my convenience. Whenever one shows itself, you are to follow unless it contains a letter from me. Failure to do so will have harmful consequences._

_As you are most likely on the Hogwarts Express when this Shadow-walker reaches you, your reply will be by keeping the letter. It shall return empty-handed. Your performance in the graveyard has gotten me interested. Worry not for Wormtail, his body is being disposed of. Do not disappoint your new Lord, Potter._

_That is all._

Harry rolled up the scroll in confusion and looked down to see the shadow-walker. “Err… thanks,” he said to it awkwardly. The snake gave no reply, instead slithering back under the chair. Harry immediately got on his hands and knees to peak under, finding nothing.

“What’s the matter Potter? Finally realized you’re a better dog than wizard?” a cocky voice snarled. Harry looked up to see the compartment door was opened and Draco Malfoy was standing over him, his arms crossed and looking down at Harry with a sense of snobbish superiority. With him, as always, were Crabbe and Goyle, who laugh dumbly.

“Sod off Malfoy,” Harry said, getting to his knees and hiding his blush. Draco gave a harsh laugh and pushed his way in, Crabbe and Goyle following. Harry got to his feet and gave the two brutes a glare. “What are you doing Malfoy?” he asked, “Shouldn’t you be too busy bullying first years?”

“So rude…” Malfoy gasped, “I wonder if Gryffindor can start with negative points, though with a loon like you, it’s amazing that Gryffindor has any.”

“Watch your mouth!” Harry yelled and before anyone could react he had his wand out and pressed against Draco’s throat. There was fear in Malfoy’s eyes, but it quickly was replaced by his usual cockiness. “What’s the matter Potter? Struck a nerve, have I?”

“More than one,” Harry said. He dug his wand deeper against Draco’s throat before screaming as Goyle tackled him, both wand and letter flying into the air.

Draco caught both as Crabbe and Goyle held a struggling Harry on the floor, his face red and eyes angry as he tried to free himself from the two brutes. “What’s this Potter?” Malfoy chuckled, twirling Harry’s wand in one hand as he held out the letter. “Love letter from a girl?” The three boys laughed as Harry struggled. “Think I might give this a read and laugh,” Draco said.

Harry froze. _He would know immediately,_ he worried, _how is he going to react?_ The three noticed Harry’s stiffness and laughed at it before Draco read the letter. Then, something weird happened. Harry watched as Draco’s facial manner changed, his cockiness slipping slowly away as a look of pure dread and fear replaced it. His eyes wide, and forehead sweating, Malfoy looked from the letter to Harry a couple times. “You—you…”

“I am,” Harry said, praying that whatever Draco was referencing would scare him enough to get the brutes off of him.

“Ge—get off of him you idiots! He’ll kill all three of us!” Malfoy panicked, grabbing the nearer flunky and pulling him off. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t move immediately, too stupid to understand orders Harry thought, before jumping up as Draco yelled, “Move you idiots!” He pushed them out of the compartment and gave Harry one final, scared look. “This isn’t over Potter—I’ll get an explanation out of you.” And, with a drop of Harry’s wand and letter, he ran away.

Harry gave out a sigh and began to move when he noticed a huge embarrassment was tenting in his trousers. Quick to hide it and make it go away, Harry grabbed his wand and letter, stuffing the latter in his pocket, and began imagining all the girls he knew. His embarrassment went flaccid instantly. “That could have gone better,” he sighed, shaking his head. “As if Malfoy would ever mature… but now he knows that I’m with him now. That might cause a problem. I wonder…”

He got to his feet and stepped onto the seating in order to reach his trunk. Pulling out a piece of parchment and a muggle pen, curtesy of Hermione who was annoyed with Harry spilling bottles of ink when he got frustrated with homework, Harry quickly began writing a letter.

_My Lord,_

_I’ve received your letter. I know you did not command me to reply, however I want you to know that before I could hide the letter, Draco Malfoy saw and read it while Crabbe and Goyle physically tackled me and held me down when I was unaware. Currently, I do not know how he will react, however all three ran from the compartment scared after Malfoy read the letter. He said that we will talk later, however I will go and confront him now at your command. Lastly, if I can have a suggestion, I do not know where you are located, however it might be beneficial for both of us if your dwellings for the summer was Malfoy Manor._

_Other than that, all is well._

_Harry Potter_

His letter done, Harry returned his pen and rolled up the letter. He got on his hands and knees and looked under the chairs. “Uhh hello? Shadow-walkers?” he said. He looked around but all he saw was shadows, no figures or snakes. “Hello? Are you guys there?” Still no answer. “Umm well… I have a letter for the Dark Lord so if you can please deliver it?” he said awkwardly. He took the letter and placed it as far under the seating as he could into the darkest shadow he can find.

He felt an icy feeling, like freezing ooze slowly sliding down his land and letter, the ooze both pricking and slurping at his hand and the letter being pulled away before he felt nothing. “Umm… thank you,” he said uncertainly and then stood up a moment later. Not sure what to do next, Harry just sat and waited for Ron and Hermione to return.

When the two did come back, Ron had a sour expression. “Stupid twins,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Hermione asked.

“Fred and George pulled Ron out of the compartment as soon as you left,” Harry said.

“Just to do their sick experiments—they wanted to feed me something! I know better than to eat whatever they offer!” Ron said. Harry and Hermione laughed. “Yeah, you think it’s not funny when next thing you know your tongue is ten feet long and sticking out!”

Hermione cleared her throat and said, “Well, I have one thing to cheer you up, Malfoy ran pass me looking absolutely terrified.”

“Really? What happened? Did he see a mirror finally?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, he and Crabbe and Goyle were all just running in terror,” Hermione said.

“Strange,” harry commented. He leaned back and felt something poke against his back. Reaching for the space between his body and the seating, he found a shadow-walker with a very short message. He took it and snuck a look as he faked a yawn.

_Go after him._

The train started moving with a jolt and Harry stood up, stretching, “Excuse me,” he lied, “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, and where are you going now?” Ron asked.

“The loo,” Harry answered, and he went out after Malfoy.


	4. Kneel

Ch. 4

Kneel

Draco Malfoy was with his grunts in a compartment near the back end of school, along with a few other Slytherins that Harry always had the displeasure of seeing. There was, obviously, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass, as well as Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Harry found the compartment easily and did not bother knocking as he opened it.

“Malfoy,” he said.

“What do you want Potter?” Pansy immediately sneered.

Harry ignored her and stared at Draco, their eyes meeting. “I would like to talk with you Malfoy… if you would?” he asked politely, almost submissively.

Malfoy had a thoughtful expression on his face for a moment before nodding. “Draco, where are you going?” Pansy demanded, the others looking at him curiously. Draco gave no answer as he stood up and went with Harry. The two were silent in the corridors until they found an empty storage room at the end of the train car. The two moved inside the small, dark room and Harry lit his wand to give off some light. Draco did the same as well. They were close together, their bodies almost touching. Harry noticed that he was still shorter than Malfoy, and he liked that. “What do you want, Potter?” Draco repeated Parkinson’s words.

“You’ve read my letter,” Harry said. “You know.”

“So what? This when you kill me or something?” Draco asked, a cocky look on his face.

“Kill you? No… I just want you to know some things, Draco,” Harry said, experimenting with using Draco’s name.

“What that you’re suddenly a dark wizard?” Draco snarled. “Is that supposed to impress me Potter? Think we’ll be best buds now that you’ve learned your first curse? As if.”

Harry did his best to hide his frustrated blush, but failed, however thankful for the low lighting for their wands. “No… it’s just, I’ve been reading, you know, about Pureblood society. I just… I want to ask you some questions, before we talk about him.”

“I’ll bite, what do you want to know?” Draco asked.

“Are you… currently arranged with anyone?” Harry asked. “Parkinson? Perhaps?”

“No, I am not arranged to that disgusting pug, why do you want her?” Malfoy sneered.

“No, no… I’m gay,” Harry said.

Draco’s face changed, flickering into something Harry couldn’t read for a moment before becoming normal again. “I see,” was all he said, before saying, “I am arranged to marry the younger Greengrass for some reason, I keep forgetting her name, I’ve barely heard of her.”

“Are you happy with that?” Harry asked.

“Of course not, she’s just a child,” Draco sneered. “But I have to since our parents arrange it.”

“But can’t you find your way out of it?” Harry asked. “For example, using the submissive marriage clause to wed someone you actually like.”

“How do you know about that… never mind Potter,” Malfoy sneered, “it’s not like I would find a man or woman to be that for me, so that is out of the question.”

 _I would,_ Harry thought but did not say. Instead he asked, “Man or woman?”

“Yes, I’m bisexual now shut up about it,” Draco said. “Figured it out around third year.”

“That was the same with my gayness,” Harry said, his cheeks still red.

“Well woo hoo,” Draco drawled, “We are both queer, if that is all you wanted to talk about, I am leaving.”

“No! I mean… there’s more,” Harry blushed. “There are things that I liked about Pureblood Society… as well as things that I obviously don’t like. I guess that what I’m trying to say is… I want you to teach me about it, your society. There’s only so much I can learn from a book and over the summer I’m all but certain that the Dark Lord will bring me to his side to teach me so… when he does, can you teach me too, please?”

Draco stared down at Harry, silently considering his question before an egotistic smirk appeared on his beautiful lips. “You’re a submissive,” he said.

“I am,” Harry nodded.

Draco gave a loud, cold laugh. “You want to be my submissive Potter? Is that it?” he laughed.

“I—no,” Harry said quickly. “I just thought it would be better if we buried the hatchet and make up—”

“Kneel.”

“Excuse me?” Harry said.

“You heard me,” Draco said. “You’re a submissive? Then I want you to kneel in front of me for the rest of this talk.”

Harry glared at Draco, his grip on his wand tightening before taking a step back in order to get on his knees. He both hated and loved the experience as he looked up at Draco, the teen now seemed incredibly taller than he once was. “You’re serious,” Draco said, giving a whistle. “Alright then, continue. How did you end up on our side?”

Kneeling, Harry looked up and kept eye contact as he spoke about what happened in the graveyard, about his rush of feelings, of hatred, fear, and a bloodthirsty need to see Wormtail dead. “He must have saw something in me,” Harry concluded, “something that even I couldn’t sense. I’ve studied the Dark Arts before. I know how to give myself a womb, how make it so that I can give milk… and I have enough anger in me that my Killing Curse kills. However, Draco, that is all I know but for some reason that was enough for our Lord. He’ll be in your manor during the summer… that is why I know that we’ll see each other again. And… I think it would be easier to meet as friends rather than enemies.” He kept his eye contact for awhile after he was finish talking before hanging his head down and closing his eyes. Harry’s heart was beating at a ridiculous speed. His face was entirely blushed, and his fingers trembled with nervousness.

Draco was silent as he thought and Harry wouldn’t dare look up until the Malfoy decided on his answer. When he did, it was minutes later, and he answered with a question. “How far are you willing to go? Look at me when you answer.”

Harry looked up and said, “All the way, I’m willing to do anything.”

Draco gave a satisfied look at this answer, “I see…” he hummed. “Fine then Potter, I will think about it, and I will keep this to myself while I do so. However, before I leave… He slid his foot forward and Harry glanced down at the shoe. “Kiss it,” Draco commanded. His eyes went wide when Harry bent down without hesitating, pressing his lips to the top of Draco’s shoe, holding it for a long second, before coming back up to a kneeling position.

“I think this summer will be interesting,” Draco said. “You’ll leave after me.” And without giving Harry another glance, he opened the supply closet, Harry squinting at the light, and left. Harry waited until he was certain that Draco was away before standing up, brushing off his knees as he did so.

“Egotistic prat,” Harry sighed, “stupid heart… falling in love with him of all people.” He took a moment to compose himself before leaving the supply closet as well, returning his way back to his compartment.

“You okay Harry, your face is all red,” Hermione said as Harry sat down.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said, “just ran into someone… doesn’t matter.”

 

Harry did not expect much when he returned to Number 4 Privet Drive. The drive there was particularly uneventful, Uncle Vernon did not speak a word to Harry, which the boy did not mind. As soon as they’ve parked, Harry unloaded his trunk and Hedwig’s cage and returned to his room without even a hello from Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. Dudley was obviously somewhere else, perhaps bullying a five year old with his gang.

Alone in his bedroom, Harry unpacked in silence, grateful for the small break before the inevitable list of chores and having to keep out of the house to stay away from the Dursleys. He wished he could live with Sirius, be with people who actually care about him instead of the Dursleys. Hell, he would even take up living with Mrs. Figg and her house that smelt of cats than being with the Dursleys. But thoughts of that were quickly pushed aside as Harry’s thoughts turned to his Dark Lord. He guessed he couldn’t deny it, he was a Dark Wizard now. He wondered when he’ll be called for, when his training will begin. Instead of excitement, Harry found that he was feeling nervous, frighten even, of what the Dark Lord will do to teach him he Dark Arts.

He pulled out his books on Pureblood Society and the Dark Arts and laid them on his bed, keeping them there as he kept everything else in his trunk except for his muggle clothes. He plopped on his bed and opened up the nearest book, which was about Pureblood society, and opened to a random passage, which was about something he completely disagreed on.

_A Movement towards Superiority_

_Purebloods are superior to all other bloods by our simple purity. We, the elite few, have been true to our morals and not once have a drop of the inferior muggle blood tainted our pure lines, and never will they be tainted. It is with this thought, that Half-bloods must be treated with a sorrowful hand as their parents or grand parents laid traitorously with the lesser blood. Though treated with scorn, Half-bloods, if they are true to their wizardry blood, can fixed their ancestor’s mistake and purify their blood through various ways. First, denouncement of their inferior blood; Second, marriage to a pureblood; Third, a potion that removes all traces of the tainted blood; and fourth after marriage and denouncement, the half-blood must produce a child. Only then will the Half-blood be considered pure, and their family’s past mistakes be forgiven by society. With this in mind, however, one must never give their pity towards the muggleborn as their blood is too tainted for forgiveness. Instead, they must be shunned and shown how inferior they are. Treat them as cattle, and they will learn to understand the hierarchy, and beg for our forgiveness, which we can only then properly give as employing them as nothing more than servants. In regards to the submissive clause, always remember that the clause only affects pure and half-bloods, and never muggleborns as they are, in essence, submissive to us Superiors._

“What a load of disgusting garbage,” Harry muttered. But that was the world that Draco lived in, a world that Harry now found himself plunging into. So, he had to know it, and had to swim through it, otherwise there was no way he would be able to have Draco as his boyfriend. Still, Harry would never do that, he would never denounce his mother. There were noises downstairs and he could hear the all familiar stomps of his uncle coming up the stairs towards his room. “I can denounce the Dursleys, however,” he muttered. He closed the book and rolled off his bed just as Uncle Vernon slammed the door opened. “Boy! Get downstairs and clean up the garden! Figg’s cats got to it again, the ruddy things!”

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry sighed, going outside without complaint. It was better than getting into an argument and losing dinner. Outside was sunny, Harry went to the plants around the house and saw that the cats simply played in them, however there was a good number of weeds among them. Getting to his knees, Harry began to long annoying task of pulling weeds with his bare hands, grumbling and boiling to himself as every now and again he got scratches from the plants.

It was evening when he was done, the sun starting to set and a full moon on the horizon of a pink sky. Tired and sweaty, Harry returned back into the house to wash off. After a bland dinner where he was ignored completely, Harry turned to his room where he saw, in the shadow, red eyes. He turned off the lights and closed the blinds, letting the shadows grow before turning back towards the red eyes. “Hello?” he said uncertainly.

The red eyes moved and seemed to multiply. The shadow-walkers skirted in the darkness, their eyes always on Harry, always unblinking, until one stepped forward into the light. It was an immense creature, one that Harry has never saw or dreamt of before. It looked to be somewhat resembling a horse, except twelve skinny legs jutted out of it instead of four, and its head was larger, its red eyes staring fixedly onto Harry. “Umm, Hello,” Harry said uncertainly. “Do you… have a message for me?”

The creature stared at Harry for a long moment before turning around. Confused, Harry watched as it returned to the shadows and another creature, or maybe it was the same one, emerged. This one, at least, had a human-like head, however Harry couldn’t see any real details. It opened its mouth, revealing black teeth that seemed to stand apart from the rest of the shadow-walker’s black body, and out came his Lord’s voice. “Potter, these creatures can transport more than letters. They also have an ability to mimic human speech perfectly, as well as allow ourselves to travel with them through the Darkness once they’ve accepted you. I doubt they will easily accept you as they have me. Dumbledore has kept your dwelling a hard-kept secret up until now, boy. In an hour, I will be there. Make it presentable.” The figure closed its mouth and turned, the red eyes disappearing as the shadows lightened immensely.

Harry’s heart, however, was too sunken to give a response. The Dark Lord was coming here. To Little Whinging. He did not know how to respond to this; however, he was scared. Not for his Lord appearing so suddenly, but what he will do to his Aunt, Uncle, and cousin. Harry was scared of what the Dark Lord will do once he has learned that he lives with muggles… and these muggles do not treat his new apprentice all too well. _What do I do? What do I do?_ Harry worried, he had an hour to think of something! But for all his worrying and wondering and panicking… all he could think of was nothing. His mind drew a blank.

And an hour passed, just like that.


	5. Command

Ch. 5

Command

To say that the Dark Lord was not flamboyant in his entrances would be akin to saying that peacocks, the natural enemies of rodents, politicians, and law-enforcements as we all know, are not very colorful. So, when the hour warning was up, Harry found his room quite instantly, and quite suddenly, in darkness. Not a speck or glimpse of light was to be found except for red eyes at various heights, degrees, and sizes, all staring at Harry with an unemotional stare that hinted at a murderous danger just behind the surface, like how peacocks look at the law-enforcement or a very disrespectful politician. Harry stood up stiffly, his own green eyes moving rapidly between the sets of red, scared and lost as he tried to find the murderous red eyes that belonged to his Dark Lord.

One figure, just out of Harry’s view, moved forward from the darkness. Harry turned towards it and thought it was the same humanoid figure from before, or the horse with many legs, however as it came closer, Harry knew that he was immediately wrong as he saw definition and details while before all shadow-walkers were sleek, uniformed darkness. The Dark Lord walked out, and, for a moment, Harry was fooled to think that Lord Voldemort had hair. Instead, his hideous and monstrous form appeared, nose-less and bald, yet striking a fearful, intense aura that Harry did not want to fight. He was surprised that he stood his ground as the Dark Lord stood in front of him, robed in black and his wand at the ready. The shadows slowly began to sink away, some sinking into Voldemort’s very own robes while others simply disappeared into the darkness corners of Harry’s room, allowing the evening glow of the setting sun to once again invade through the window blinds.

“Normally my subjects greet me on their knees, Potter,” the Dark Lord said.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he quickly got on his knees. The Dark Lord said nothing and allowed him to rise a couple minutes later. Harry got to his feet as the Dark Lord looked around Harry’s room with little interest. “So, this is where Dumbledore was hiding you,” he muttered more to himself than Harry. He looked at Harry, “Are there others?”

“Yes… milord,” Harry said.

“Who?”

“My Uncle and Aunt, milord, on my mother’s side,” Harry said.

“Muggles,” Voldemort said with a sneer, “to think he had you living around their kind.” Harry was silent, and Voldemort went on, “I suppose the old man thought of you to grow a fondness for them. Have you, boy?”

“Grow a fondness for muggles?” Harry repeated. He frowned, “I don’t know,” he began. “I will be honest, I do not like my aunt, uncle, or cousin. They bully and ignore me growing up, trying to snuff out my magic. They even made us move to a lighthouse in the middle of the raging sea just to avoid me going to Hogwarts. I don’t… I don’t hate them…”

“Now Harry, don’t say that, they are muggles, below our kind,” the Dark Lord said, “and you have said it yourself that they mistreat you… why not show them their place?”

“They’re my family—and—”

“But they are not really your family,” the Dark Lord went on, “family does not starve others, family does not force to due impossible tasks…they do not hurt each other. Think, Harry, and tell me if those muggle are truly family?”

“They are,” Harry said defensively. “Aunt Petunia is my mother’s sister—”

“A mother that you will throw away once you go into Pureblood society,” Lord Voldemort said. Harry frowned, “You know what you will have to do in order to get the Malfoy boy, Harry,” Voldemort continued. “These muggles are just the first step.”

“But milord—”

“What in ruddy blazes are you doing boy?” Uncle Vernon’s voice thundered in the hall. Harry’s eyes grew wide with fear. He turned to Voldemort and quickly got on his knees.

“Please my lord, I will accept any punishment but please, please, do not let my Uncle see you! Please!” He begged. Voldemort looked at Harry for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, before moving into the corner of the room, his cloak covering his face and body, rendering him practically invisible. The door slammed open and Uncle Vernon walked in, her face purple with rage and his sausage fingers clenched in a tight fist.

“Who were you talking to in here boy? Hmm? Think it’s funny scaring Dudley talking to ghosts, eh?” Uncle Vernon asked. In her cage Hedwig hooted angrily. “That ruddy owl!” Uncle Vernon screamed back at her.

“No one, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said quickly, “I was talking to no one—just Hedwig.”

Uncle Vernon grumbled and looked around for a moment. “Fine,” he spat. “Then stay quiet. I don’t want to hear any noise from you while I’m watching the telly! They’re going on about some stupid American politician who died from a peacock and I do not want to miss it! You hear me boy?” He gave Harry one last look before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry gave a breath and went to Hedwig, opening both her cage and a window, “I’m sorry girl,” he said, “why don’t you go and stay at Ron’s until things calmed down?”

The owl gave a small chirp before flying off, Harry watching and wishing vaguely that he could fly off along with her. He almost for that his lord was with him, until the moment he turned around and Lord Voldemort was standing behind him. “Sentimental…” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, milord?”

“You are very sentimental, Potter,” Voldemort said. “However even if I ordered you to kill the muggles, I know you won’t, and can’t do it.”

“I can’t?” Harry asked. Voldemort nodded, “why not?” he asked curiously.

“Simply because of the Trace you ignorant boy,” Voldemort sneered. Harry looked at him, confused. “I am not surprised you do not know of it,” Voldemort said. “Not that it matters now…” he looked around Harry’s room for a moment, contemplating on what to do. “It will be a problem, if the muggles suddenly die,” he muttered, “however to have my apprentice suffer under them is utterly humiliating and scandalous…”

Harry frowned, he didn’t want to interrupt, however he wanted to tell his lord that he wasn’t suffering under the Dursleys, it’s just how his life is with them. The Dark Lord turned to Harry, his face his usual unemotional mask. “I will give you a potion, Potter,” he began. “you add your hair into the mixture than feed it to the muggles. It is a Total Obedience Potion; they will be compelled to do what you wish. I expect them all to be under its effects the next I come. As for your studies… you cannot perform magic here. As such you will travel to Malfoy Manor daily starting tomorrow to receive instruction from myself. I expect that you have your pass grading and records, boy?” Harry was silent, looking oddly sheepish. “Of course, not… then I shall test you myself to see your capabilities. You are my apprentice, Harry Potter, and as such I do not allow for failure. Is that understood?”

“Yes, milord,” Harry said.

“Good,” Voldemort said. “Continue your studies with the books you have now until the shadow-walkers call for you tomorrow,” he said. Harry nodded again. Before Harry could react Voldemort snatched his arm, pressing his wand firmly against his inner forearm, “Remember boy,” he said in a cold, icy voice, “you are mine now, no longer Dumbledore’s. Your actions reflect my views and standing. Do not think of running to Dumbledore about this, understand?”

Harry winced, his arm hurt, as though it was slowly being forced into a pot of boiling water. “Yes milord,” he winced, “I’m yours.”

Voldemort smirked at that. The pain increased and Harry watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as a black circle formed on his inner forearm. Voldemort had a satisfied look as he removed the wand. “My…my lord?” Harry asked properly.

“This will keep track of you, boy,” Voldemort said. “Your actions will develop your Mark until it has formed fully into the mark of my apprentice. You should feel honored, Harry, for you are the second person to be gifted with this.”

Harry stared down at the mark, his horror slowly fading. “Second?” he whispered, “Who was the first, milord?”

“You will find out in time,” Voldemort said. “You will find that I am not all monstrous, Harry. You want to submit to Malfoy, body, mind, and soul. I have told you that I will show you the path towards that, and I have not lied. That mark is the beginning, Harry. May you wear it with pride just as the boy before you did.”

Harry knew better than to ask for more details now. Instead he just gave a faint smile and nodded, “Thank you milord,” he said. Voldemort seemed almost human as he considered Harry one last time before the pure blackness and darkness returned, thousands of red eyes joining his staring at Harry. The boy, however, did not stray as he kept his stare on his lord as Voldemort backed away, becoming one with the darkness around him, his robes seemingly swallowing it and him before disappearing as one.

Harry wondered who the boy Voldemort mentioned, was he a past apprentice? If so, what happened to him? He was curious, but he knew that if he asked, he would never get any answers. All he had to do was to trust in his lord, and hope that one day he would earn the right to know who else held his mark. He couldn’t help but stared at it. One perfect circle, black as night and an inch across sat against his sun-kissed skin, as though an egg just waiting to burst. _How is this going to track my progress?_ He thought as he stared at it. He shook his head and dismissed it before looking around. It was a little early to sleep, however Harry felt exhausted. He collapsed on the bed and looked over at the books. He guessed he should continue reading, if not for his own orders then just to pass time. With that in mind, Harry took his book and continued where he left off, reading about the many ways a proper witch (he just substituted the word wizard into it) can submit to their pureblood husband.

 

Voldemort summoned Mr. Malfoy immediately when he returned. “Yes, my lord, how may I help?” Mr. Malfoy asked as he bowed gracefully in front of his dark lord.

“You will obtain for me a Potion of Obedience,” the Dark Lord said. “However, you are not allowed to inform anyone about this manner.”

“At once, my lord,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“And tell me… how is your son? How is he adjusting to having me in his household?” Voldemort asked.

Mr. Malfoy blinked and hesitated, “I, my lord, he is as thrilled and honored as we all are to house you here,” he said.

“In that case bring him here.”

“My Lord?”

“You’ve heard me Lucius, bring your son here,” Voldemort commanded.

“I… I—yes my lord,” Mr. Malfoy said. He gave a stiff bow and left the room. Voldemort chuckled and turned to the sound of heavy hissing, _“Nagini…”_ His snake slithered into view, thick as a man’s forearm and longer than any other snake, Nagini was impressive in her own rights, fearsome and vicious, yet never strikes without her master’s command.

The Dark Lord took to a chair by a fire, his snake curling around the chair’s legs, snaking up the furniture and onto his shoulders. The door opened and Voldemort barely glanced to see Mr. Malfoy walking in stiffly, followed by his son. Chuckling to himself, he said, “Leave us Lucius.”

Mr. Malfoy hesitated. He looked at his son, unsure what to do and what will happen. The Dark Lord waited half a minute before stressing, “Leave us. I wish to speak to the boy alone.”

“Yes… my lord,” Mr. Malfoy said reluctantly. He gave a stiff bow and turned to Draco, whispering something to the boy.

Voldemort could see why Potter would want to submit to the teen. Tall, handsome, and an arrogant aura, he had everything that an amateur submissive would crave for. _But can he control the boy?_ The Dark Lord wondered. _Does he truly know what it is to have someone under their control and affection? Or will he abuse the power entrusted with him?_

Draco sat knelt by Voldemort, keeping his head down, “You wanted me…”

“Yes, I did, have a seat next to me Draco, there is something I wish to discuss personally with you,” Voldemort said. The Malfoy brat looked surprised and hesitated like his father before moving to the armchair near his lord’s sitting in it. “There… now then, I have some curiosities that you will satisfy Draco,” the Dark Lord began, “and we will start with an unabridged version of everything you know about Harry Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about peacocks, didn’t I? Anyway, something weird I’ve noticed is that I’m losing reviews… not that it hurts me personally, however I absolutely adore reading all of your reactions, the good and the bad, however I do not want to force you guys to review or bully you into it. Just reading my story and knowing that I’m entertaining you is enough so thank you so much and I hope that you have enjoyed.


	6. Decide

Ch. 6

Decide

The Dark Lord did not come back to Harry for a week. When he did, it was late at night, and once again the shadow-walkers blocked all light in the room as the Dark Lord walked in. He just looked down at Harry and turned his back to the boy, “Follow,” he commanded. He walked into the darkness. Harry hesitated for a moment before moving on, encouraged, and slightly scared, of the numerous red eyes that stared at him.

He did not see the Dark Lord when he walked, in fact he could not see anything. He felt as though he was in an endless field of darkness, each step was easy, the ground hard underneath him as if stepping on dirt. He didn’t dare to turn, he didn’t know if he could, he just kept walking forward, guided by an occasional pair of red eyes that watched him on the way. There were no definition or shape to fit those eyes, as though they were part of a dome that surrounded him as he walked. Until, eventually, and quite suddenly, he stepped out of the darkness and into an expansive room.

It looked to be an old basement with high walls, a long fireplace, and pillars that held up the mansion above. The walls were undecorated, eerily empty with cobwebs filling the corners. In one section was a large stone cauldron with a table fill of vials and tubes with a fully stocked cabinet of ingredients, in the other, what looked like a cleared space for dueling purposes. There was a blackboard and desk at a third end, and piles of crates and boxes, undoubtedly full of furniture and heirlooms that the mansion’s owners would rather keep on-hand instead of in a Vault at Gringotts. Harry knew where he was without even thinking about it. He was in Malfoy Manor.

“You are awful at Potions, mediocre in Charms, adequate in Transfigurations, shoddy with Herbology, superb at Defense Against the Dark Arts… and a complete novice in the finer points of the Dark Arts,” Lord Voldemort listed. “In short, Potter, you are far from the perfect apprentice, far from the last who held that title… and as you currently stand, you wouldn’t even pale in comparison when compared to him.” The Dark Lord turned to him, a stony expression on his face. “We are in July,” he stated, “Two months until September 1st. Two months, Potter, for you to smarten up. If you do not, then that will be it, understand?”

“Yes, milord,” Harry said nervously.

“Good. Sit down,” The Dark Lord said, pointing towards the table and cauldron. “We shall have daily lessons, Potter. Starting tomorrow at precisely ten, the shadow-walkers will come fetch you. From ten to four, you shall be in here with me learning. If you do an adequate job, I will allow you a break for lunch, if not then you will not eat until after four. Now, seeing as how it is late, you will be given a quick lesson before you are dismissed. I do not care for useless questions, so I will say now, yes we are in Malfoy Manor, and no, you are not allowed to go out of this basement without my explicit permission. What I teach you will be of my choosing, and you are expected to be proficient in each matter by the end of two months. There are times when I do not call upon you—you are not to contact me then. After four you are allowed to leave at your discretion, however you will not bother nor contact myself or my Death Eaters, I shall formally introduce you when you are ready. As for Malfoy… you are free to do what you like with the boy, submit to him as much as you wish, however know that it is me, not Malfoy, whom you’ve submitted to first, Harry, and as such it is me whom you will always obey.”

Harry felt a deadly shiver go down his spine, but he nodded silently anyway. The Dark Lord moved towards the cauldron with him. On the table was a textbook, already opened to a potion. Harry stood before it and looked down to see it was instructions to make a _Draught of Peace_. “I have gathered information about you, Potter, and so we will begin with this,” the Dark Lord said. “You have the night to make this. Once you are done, you may return.”

Harry looked down at the list, he bit his lower lip and looked up at the Dark Lord. “My… my lord,” he said, slowly, “I barely… I don’t recognize these ingredients.”

“Then learn quickly,” the Dark Lord said. “Moonstones are the shining, milky-colored gemstones, the powdered ones are next to the jar with intact moonstones. Syrup of Helleborne, is exactly what it sounds like, extract of helleborne. Read the instructions, follow it, and that is all. You have the night, I will be back to check on your progress.” And with that, the Dark Lord vanished, but in his place was a Shadow-walker, tall and humanoid like with two red eyes staring at Harry. Harry bit his lip and looked around the room; it was dark with many unlit torches.

“Do you… do you mind if I… if I light some torches?” Harry asked. The shadow-walker said nothing, just stared at Harry. The boy guessed that he was fine to do so, so he took out his wand and lit a few torches with a small fire charm. The basement lit up and Harry was more easily able to see the textbook, and ingredients in the cabinet next to the table. Harry placed his wand down gently and looked at the book again, reading the instructions.

  1. _Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns green._
  2. _Stir until the potion turns blue._
  3. _Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns purple._
  4. _Allow to simmer until the potion turns pink._
  5. _Add syrup of hellebore until the potion turns turquoise._
  6. _Allow to simmer until the potion turns purple._
  7. _Shake powdered porcupine quills vigorously until they are ready and then add until the potion turns red._
  8. _Stir until the potion turns orange._
  9. _Add more porcupine quills until the potion turns turquoise._
  10. _Allow to simmer till the potion turns purple._
  11. _Add powdered unicorn horn until the potion turns pink._
  12. _Stir until the potion turns red._
  13. _Allow to simmer until the potion turns purple._
  14. _Add more powdered moonstone until the potion turns grey._
  15. _Allow the potion to simmer until it turns orange._
  16. _Add more powdered porcupine quills until the potion turns white. Stirring_


  1. _Simmering lowers heat. Add exactly 7 drops of hellebore._



He had to read it three times to make sure he got it correct before starting the potion. He looked at the stone cauldron and saw that water was already boiling inside. He started slow, pouring in the powdered moonstone slowly, watching the water like a hawk until it swiftly changed colors. He made a noise of surprise and his hand jerked as he pulled the powdered moonstone away, stopping at a muddy green color. Grabbing a nearby stirring spoon, he began stirring the potion. He watched carefully, the basement’s quietness both off-putting and calming, all he could hear was the soft brewing bubbles of his potion as slowly but surely it turned from green to blue. Then he quickly grabbed the powdered moonstone again and sprinkled it in cautiously until the blue turned into a vivid purple. He was ready for this sudden change and pulled the moonstone away and started stirring once more.

His face was sweating under the heat of the cauldron. His arm started to ache from all the stirring he had to do to make the potion change colors, and yet he wasn’t even halfway done. He followed the directions, his glasses heating up eyes straining for every visual cue that he needed. Time moved with each stir and sweat on his brow, Before he knew it, half an hour passed and the shadow-walker standing before him did not move an inch. His potion was a grayish-purple, and according to his textbook he was almost done.

He lowered the heat so the potion can simmer. Exhausted, he leaned against the table, watching the potion as he considered what was about to happen to him. He’s learning from the Dark Lord, he’s going to become a Dark Wizard… falling into pureblood society so he can be with Draco. Draco… Harry’s head turned upwards. “He’s up there sleeping,” he muttered, “or maybe he’s playing with himself… you think he’s the kind of person to do that?” he asked, looking at the shadow-walker. The shadow-walker just stared at Harry, who sighed. “Right, you don’t talk,” he said. His mind started to become lewd, filled of thoughts of Draco naked, his face blushed as he stroked himself. Harry smiled at the thought, getting turned on himself, and his head lulled towards the cauldron. “Oh shit!” he cursed, seeing the dirty orange color of the potion. He began stirring frantically, adding powdered porcupine quills as he did so until it turned white.

Harry quickly lowered the heat more, the potion gurgling angrily as he did so before calming. When it fully calmed, he added seven drops of hellebore, and the potion turned into a light silver color, having a vapor quality as he stirred.

He was tired, drenched in sweat, but felt a thrill of confidence when he saw that his potion wasn’t a complete mess.

“You’re done,” The Dark Lord appeared behind Harry. The boy jumped and turned around. Voldemort moved passed Harry and examined the potion. “Adequate, but not good enough,” he muttered. “Shame, I was told you were worse at Potions… or is it because you are following orders?” The Dark Lord smirked at the thought. He opened his robe and pulled out a thin bottle filled with a dark-green liquid.

He handed it to Harry. “This is the Obedience Potion,” he said. “You will put it in your muggle relatives’ food tomorrow.” Harry hid his frowned but took the potion anyway.

He was dismissed, and followed the shadow-walker back to his room in Privet Drive. Harry waited until the shadow-walker was fully gone, checking every corner he could, before putting the potion on his dresser. He finally allowed his frown to drop as he stared at the potion. Harry felt troubled. The potion taunted him, gleaming an evil green in the moonlight as he considered it. He hated the Dursleys, that was nothing new, but using a potion on them? It sounded wrong… having them forced against their will to listen to him, to follow any and all commands he could usher… that didn’t sit right with Harry. He didn’t want that power, he didn’t want to force this onto them.

He chewed on his lip, staring at the potion. Fidgeting with his fingers, he shook his head, “No, no I can’t do it,” he said to himself. “I can’t! I—I won’t… I can’t,” he looked at the potion. “It’s not fair,” he insisted. “They… they might deserve it but still…” His mind at a lost, he grabbed the potion and placed it out of eyesight of his bed before getting into it. _I’ll make the decision in the morning,_ he thought to himself, before falling quickly asleep, forcing his mind to turn from the potion to his lewd thoughts of Draco.

 

The next morning found Cedric Diggory making the long walk from his home to the Burrow. It was a beautiful day, the sun was bright and the clouds were fluffy against the blue sky. The young wizard was carrying with him a basket that was once filled with Mrs. Weasley’s fudge. After hearing what happened with Cedric, and his almost-death, Mrs. Weasley took it upon herself to make a whole tray of her chocolate fudge to send  to the Diggorys.

Cedric found the Burrow in a state of rushed chaos, Mrs. Weasley was yelling out orders, suitcases were in various degrees of being packed, and the hens were all out of their coup. When he came near the matriarch, he could hear Mrs. Weasley finishing telling Ron, “…and don’t forget your underwear! And make sure to bring extra pairs of gloves! Dumbledore needs us there by the end of the week!—Oh Cedric,” she smiled sweetly when she saw him, “I am so sorry for the state of our home—we are going on a bit of a vacation you see—did you and your parents enjoy the fudge treats I made?”

“We did Mrs. Weasley, they were very delicious,” Cedric smiled. “I brought back the basket here, listen, would you like any help packing?” Cedric asked politely.

“No, no, I don’t want to bother you now, you can just leave the basket here,” Mrs. Weasley said, pointing to a kitchen table full of dishes that needed cleaning. He did so and said, “I don’t mind, Mrs. Weasley, I can help.”

“Well… in that case,” she thought for a moment, “Can you be a dear and get Fred and George for me? They should still be in their room I think. Do you know where it is? It’s on the second floor there, just go up the stairs over there one floor, and it’ll be on your left dearie.”

“Got it,” Cedric smiled. He followed Mrs. Weasley’s directions, and found himself on the second floor, standing by an open door. Inside was a room full of small crates and bags full of what looked like joke products and materials. Cedric walked in and noticed the twins hunched over one particular box, whispering to themselves. He knocked on the door and smiled when the twins looked at him, “Hi, your mom sent me to bring you two down,” he said, “What are you guys up to?”

“Cedric!” Fred grinned, “Come in! And close the door behind ya.”

Cedric did so and walked up towards Fred and George, “What’s up?” he asked, looking at the now closed box in front of them.

The Twins looked at each other with a mysterious smirk on both of them. “Well,” Fred began, “we’re trying to make this new joke right, when you eat this, your face is supposed to turn rainbow-colored and we need to see if it works on someone other than us.”

“Ok, I’ll try it out,” Cedric shrugged, he thought for a moment, “but only if you two tell me about domination and submission.”

The twins’ eyes shined at this, growing wide as saucers as they looked up and down Cedric like a piece of meat. “You want to know?” Fred purred.

“Well,” Cedric cleared his throat, “everything you two know,” he said.

“Are you gay?” George asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you gay?”

“Or bisexual?”

Cedric looked between the two twins, “I am bisexual,” he said. The twins smiled at this, “and single,” he added. “Cho and I… we just didn’t work out.”

“Listen to that Fred,” George purred, “sweetie Cedric is a free man.”

“And he wants to learn about being kinky George,” Fred said. The two stepped towards Cedric, their eyes full of lust and their smirks turned predatory. “I think we should teach him a lesson on Dominance, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” George smirked, “a very personal lesson…” And before Cedric knew it, the two Gryffindor beaters lunged at him. He gave a yell as the three landed on one of the twin’s beds. “What are you—ahh!” Cedric growled. Something snapped within him and before he knew it, he grabbed both twins and with surprising strength, pushed Fred off of him while he spun around on George, locking him beneath the Hufflepuff. Sitting on George, Cedric turned to face Fred, who gave a playful smile as he lunged for Cedric. The Hufflepuff safely grabbed him by his shoulders and forced him down as well. Panting and surprised at himself, Cedric looked at both of them, “Is this what you meant by a lesson of dominance?” he asked.

“F-Fred,” George said, “I think we found one!”

“I think we did too George,” Fred smiled, “Cedric!” he turned to Cedric and quickly got on his knees. “Please—won’t you be our Sir?”

Cedric frowned, he shuffled off of George and sat next to him. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Harry didn’t mention anything like that.”

“So that’s how you found out—never mind,” George said, joining his brother kneeling before Cedric. “It’s like this… you’ll be our boyfriend and whenever you command us, we obey basically.”

“Yeah,” Fred nodded, “That’s how it works in simplest form so… Cedric, will you be our boyfriend?”

“I get both of you?” Cedric asked. They nodded. “And when I tell you something, you obey? Like if I tell you to kiss each other?” Immediately, Fred and George turned and started kissing each other. Cedric blushed, his dick waking up at the sight in front of him. He quickly shook the lewd thoughts out of his head, “Stop,” he said. The twins stopped.

“I can…I don’t mind dating you two,” Cedric blushed, “but… you need to teach me, teach me how I can command you… how I can be a good, what do you call it? Dominant to both of you.”

The twins looked at each other and nodded, “We can do that, can’t we Fred?” George asked.

“Of course,” Fred smiled, the two bounced onto the bed, hugging Cedric, “We promise that we’ll teach you everything we know,” they said in unison. “Starting with leather!”

“No,” Cedric said, “Starting with you two going downstairs and helping your mother. …Now!”

The twins pretended to look shock but grinned as they stood up. “Yes Sir,” they both said, hanging their heads lightly before walking out of the room. Cedric continued to sit on the bed, confused and dazed.

“I lost a girlfriend… and gained two boyfriends,” he muttered. “How am I going to tell my mum?” He sighed and shook his head, “I’ll think about it later.” He stood up and looked around. He was curious to what the boys were looking at. _I am their Dominant, or Sir,_ he thought to himself, _so I should check._ He walked towards the box; it was a sizable cardboard box with a lid. He opened it and saw stacks of leather whips, clamps, and other devices that made his face blush and dick hard. Quickly replacing the lid, he cleared his throat and looked at it. _I’ll go and help my boys,_ he thought to himself quickly, liking the way it sounded, and ran out of the room.


	7. Learn

Ch. 7

Learn

Harry woke up staring at the potion. He frowned, sitting up and putting on his glasses. He checked the time, he had two hours to prepare for his lessons with Voldemort. He sighed and dressed slowly, his eyes darting to the potion every now and again. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t rationalize or justify doing it. The Dursleys were awful, yes, but he couldn’t take their will away, make them forcefully obedient to him. It was too harsh, even for them.

Harry took the potion and opened his sock drawer, putting it in the back and hiding it in a mountain of socks. When he was done, he heard Uncle Vernon’s voice yelling at him to come down and “help” with breakfast. He cooked and had his meager portion while Uncle Vernon and Dudley ate almost most of it. When they were done, Harry had to do the dishes while Dudley went out to be a bully with his friends, then returned to his room. His mind went back to the potion only once before the Shadow-Walkers appeared at ten.

The darkness took over, and Harry took a breath before walking towards it, following the flood of red eyes. He did not know again how long he walked, however with a step, the darkness suddenly vanished, and he was once again in the basement of Malfoy Manor, and the Dark Lord was once again waiting for him.

“Ten exactly,” the Dark Lord said. Harry looked surprised, he was sure he was walking for some time. The Dark Lord didn’t entertain his surprise as he simply went to the desk and chalkboard, “Sit,” he commanded.

Harry went to the desk and sat down. On it were several textbooks and a large notebook, which was blank. “You will obviously take notes in there,” the Dark Lord began. “We shall begin with the Dark Arts. Now Potter, I am sure that you know at least of some Dark Magic?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded.

“Tell me about them.”

“Besides the Unforgivable Curses… I know spells that would give a man a working uterus, bind two people together in the old submissive marriages… as well as…. As tying one’s mind and body to a superior…” Harry admitted.

“So, the minor spells,” the Dark Lord said, looking a little disappointed. He took out his wand, and most of the textbooks on Harry’s desk disappeared. “As my apprentice, Potter, you will need to know how to maim, how to hurt, how to kill, and how to torture…” Harry’s eyes widened with fear. The Dark Lord seemed to revel in it. “Yes, Potter, I will be expecting you to do all of that and more… I will not have a useless tool as my apprentice.”

“I understand, sir,” Harry said.

“Good. Now,” Voldemort tapped his wand again and the only remaining textbook opened. “Read, take notes, and afterwards you will try out the spell on a few subjects.” Harry felt something heavy roll inside his stomach but swallowed it.

He looked down to see the spell the Dark Lord want him to learn. It was a severe cutting spell, as shown by an animation on the page where, with a swipe of the wand as though the caster was swinging a sword, the opponent was sliced cleanly in half. The heavy feeling in his stomach rolled again, but started to read, scared to look up at the Dark Lord in case he decides to punish the boy.

_Severo The Slicing Curse_

_A simple Dark Curse, the caster fills his wand with anger and swipes as his target like a sword, speaking the incantation clearly. The effects of this spell is gruesome, being able to cut through flesh and bone easily. The spell must be cast close up as the efficiently of the spell decreases with the distance, up to only giving a feeble paper cut to the enemy across the field. The wand needs to be slashed from the dominant side to the other, alongside with the incantation._

Harry frowned and the heaviness inside him flipped once more as the Dark Lord called him to his side. Harry expected to see a muggle or animal but was thankful to see a training dummy frozen on its knees. It looked realistic, but it was clear to Harry that it was not a real human. “Tell me the spell, Potter,” Voldemort demanded.

“It’s the Slicing Curse… my lord,” Harry said, “Severo… it’s like an invisible sword, slicing anything and everything in it’s path but you have to be up close for it to work.”

“Correct,” Voldemort said. “The spell is powered by your anger, Potter, just as the Killing Curse is powered by your malice. Now, you have ten minutes to cut the target in half.”

“My lord?”

Harry screamed suddenly as pain overtook his body, the Dark Lord staring at him uncaring as his Cruciatus Curse hit the boy. “Do not question me,” he seethed. “You have ten minutes or I will keep the curse on longer boy.”

Shaking slightly, Harry nodded and faced the dummy. He aimed his wand at the dummy before swinging it like a sword, “ _Severo!”_ he yelled out. The dummy did not move at all, barely a scratch appearing. Harry tried again, swinging his arm, “ _Severo_!” and again the dummy did not move, no marks appearing on it’s body.

Again and again Harry tried, the most he was able to do leave a small cut. With each failed attempt, Harry found himself stepping closer and closer to the dummy, his tolerance and patience draining slowly as annoyance and anger filled in with a bit of desperation. He did not want to know how much time he had left—he just knew that he had to get the spell to work. _“Severo! Severo! Severo! Severo!”_ The cuts on the target started to become deeper, and for a moment Harry was scared that there would be blood. However, there wasn’t, just the fibers that held the dummy together.

When he saw this, Harry started to become more confident. Standing barely half a foot in front of the dummy. With one final swipe Harry yelled out, _“Severo!”_ There was a sickening slice and a hard sound before the dummy’s left arm fell off of the body, dropping with a dull thud.

The Dark Lord stepped up and picked up the arm. “Ten minutes to cut off an arm,” he muttered. “Potter, you are far from him. …We will do better.” He threw the arm away and walked away. Harry followed him silently as they moved onto the next subject, which was surprisingly Transfiguration.

What surprised Harry even more so was that the Dark Lord seemed to be following Hogwarts curriculum with the other subjects he taught Harry, going over the spells in an overview that Harry learned in his fourth year. The Dark Lord was pleased that Harry wasn’t an imbecile in Transfiguration and Charms, which they both went over in ninety minutes; however, Harry did feel that the Dark Lord was disappointed in his progress, and that made the boy himself feel disappointed as well.

“Potter, for tomorrow you will review your Charms and Transfiguration textbooks,” the Dark Lord commanded. “I will not accept any mistakes tomorrow. Understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Harry nodded, looking a little shameful of himself.

“Good. Now, yesterday your potion was adequate. I’ve used it on a minion, and he did not die, today however, you will learn how to make a simple poison,” the Dark Lord said. “It is imperative that you understand the basics of poison-making if you are to be my apprentice. There will be many people out there that will try to poison you, boy. Mastering poisons will make it simpler for you to create their antidotes.”

“Okay, sir,” Harry nodded. A thought came in his mind and, feeling courageous, he looked up to his Lord and asked, “Master… was he a good poison-maker? Your last apprentice…”

He expected a curse, or pain, but instead the Dark Lord stopped. Harry did so too, there was a pained expression on the Dark Lord’s face for less than a second. “No,” he finally said. “No, he was not… which is why you must be Harry.” His voice was oddly soft. Harry did not know why, but he felt a little closer to the Dark Lord, and maybe it was because of that that he decided that he was going to put more effort into Potions than he ever had before.

The two moved to the stone table and cauldron. The poison that Harry was going to make required the use of snake venom, which the Dark Lord provided. “This poison needs to be clear Potter, undetectable. There are spells, charms that can be used to detect poisons. You must be vigilant in both using them, as well as avoiding,” the Dark Lord instructed. “Pour the snake venom into the cauldron, and use the different herbs and mints provided to mask it’s texture and color.”

Harry nodded. He took the two vials of snake venom and poured both under the Dark Lord’s watchful eyes. The boiling water turned into a simmering toxic green. He gave the poison a few stirs, the toxic green color darkening, before he began reaching for herbs, adding foxglove, a poisonous plant, as well as mint and sage. The dark green color lightened slightly with each stir, the green slowly transitioning into a light shade of blue. Harry stopped, at a lost on what to do as he looked at the ingredients that the Dark Lord had provided. There were various mushrooms that Harry didn’t know the names to, as well as greens that Harry would see normally in food. He decided to keep to the greens, chopping them finely and adding slowly at the time, smiling as he saw the light blue lightening even more so. However, he was still stuck just before the poison becoming completely clear.

He could feel the Dark Lord’s eyes burrowing in on him, and he did not want to fail. He went to the cupboard and quickly found bottles full of wormwood and baneberries. Grabbing both, he cut the wormwood in half before adding and squeezed the juices out of the berries. Than he began stirring. Once, twice, thrice, ten times he stirred before, suddenly, the water turned crystal clear and sat still, as though chilled over the roaring fire underneath. Harry turned the flames off and stepped away, sweaty and nervous.

“Half an hour,” the Dark Lord commented, “let us see how you have done.” He stepped to the cauldron and produced a silver chalice with his wand. He filled the chalice with the poison and began waving his wand around it. “You have done well for the first attempt,” the Dark Lord said, “I cannot smell the venom, nor can I barely trace the poisons in this. And it looks like a regular cup of water. However, we must try the toxicity and effectiveness. The Dark Lord moved away with the poison, and Harry followed obediently.

There was a cage in the corner of the basement behind a large stack of old yet expensive looking furniture. In the cage were an endless supply of rats it seemed. “Wormtail will be useful even in death,” the Dark Lord commented before taking a rat. He forced the rodent’s mouth opened and forced the poison in it. The rat squealed as Voldemort held it by it’s tail. It thrashed and struggled, it’s black beady eyes looking to strain before droplets of blood seeped out of the corner, and its movement stopped.

“Fast working and efficient… you have done well boy,” Voldemort said. He dropped the dead rat. And transfigured the chalice into a sealed bottle. “I believe with this poison you have earned your lunch. We will resume in an hour. Do not look for me.”

And with that, the Dark Lord moved passed Harry, not even giving the boy a glance back. Alone in the basement, Harry walked around for a couple minutes before an idea came to him. He was going to find Draco.

Taking out his wand, He looked around and whispered to it, “Point me to Draco Malfoy.”

The wand spun in his hand before pointing upwards and towards the left. Smiling to himself, the boy quickly moved to the steps, leaving the basement and following his wand. The basement steps led to the kitchen, which was full of house-elves moving quickly, dressed in nothing but a sack with the Malfoy emblem. Harry ignored them and moved through the kitchen, always following the direction his wand pointed as he moved through empty room after empty room, lucky to never run into anyone else, until he found a skinny curved staircase, which he climbed to only come to a terrace where Harry saw Draco Malfoy sitting with another boy at a simple table outside.  It looked as though they were talking, and Harry stopped, at a lost on how to approach them.

He stared at the two for a moment, they seemed friendly and the boy looked around Draco’s age. He had black hair, fair skin, and looked rather short. It took Harry several moments to recognize the boy as Theodore Nott. Wondering what they were talking about, he crept towards the door, wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak.

He pushed the door open gently, leaving enough room to let in a cool breeze, which carried both their voices.

“… absolutely stupid.”

“I disagree, Draco. It can be argued that it’s worth it,” Nott said. “Just because you may not see the worth of the charm—”

“Transfiguration is absolutely the most boring and non-necessary class of them all,” Draco said, “as well as this game we are playing—where is that damn elf with our food anyway?” he grumbled.

Harry took this to step in. He opened the door and said in a confident voice, causing both boys to jump, “I find Transfiguration rather useful, Draco. Imagine being able to transfigure your body…”

“Potter! What are you doing here?” Draco said, looking shocked and at a lost for a moment. Nott stood up as well, looking confused.

“Potter?”

“I am on lunch break from my lessons Draco,” Harry said, “I thought that we can talk.”

Draco’s eyes flashed with recognition, and a superior look replaced his shock. “I see,” he said, he looked towards Nott and smirked, “Potter here’s desperate for command. So much so that he joined our side just so he can lick my boots.”

“Excuse me—”

“Shut up Potter!” Draco sneered. He stepped towards Harry, “You’re a sub, so get on your knees and lick my shoe.” Harry glared at the blonde, anger filling him. He stepped towards the blonde and did not move, their eyes staring at each other.

“You want my submission, Malfoy?” he breathed. “You have to earn it. The train was just my treat for you, you have to work for the rest of it.”

“How dare you—”

Draco was interrupted by Nott’s laughter. “I think I like this Harry,” he smiled. “Come! Join us, we were just about to eat.”

Harry turned to Theodore Nott and smiled, “Thank you Nott, I think I will,” he said pleasantly.

“Call me Theo, Harry,” Nott said, “and I must say, if Draco doesn’t fit your needs, I am more than prepared to satisfy them and more… my lovely boy.”

Harry blushed and smiled, “Thank you Sir,” he said respectfully, his eyes glancing at Malfoy. Theo did the same and smiled innocently. “Draco,” Theo said, “why don’t you sit down? Isn’t it rude to stay standing in the presence of a beautiful boy?”

Draco glared at him but sat down. “Anyway Harry,” Theo said, “what did you say about transfiguring your body?”

“I mean, Transfiguration is good for that,” Harry said. “We may be focusing on turning bugs into animals and objects, but we can work up to transfiguring your own body—maybe into a form that you find better suited or if our Lord needs us to infiltrate a place and we do not have the means to get a Polyjuice Potion.”

Draco frowned, “That does sound useful,” he muttered.

“And what form would you find better suited?” Nott asked. “I’m sure that we all want better bodies—right Draco?”

“Yeah,” Draco muttered.

“So, what would you change, Harry?” Theo smiled.

Harry gave a thought and looked at his own body, feeling himself up experimentally, “Well… I like that I’m short, but I could be a little taller… with a bigger butt, I heard that guys like that, and maybe my chest? But I don’t know how that would work…”

“Muscles maybe?” Theo suggested, “What do you think Draco? Would you think Harry would look good with a nice big butt and thick muscled chest?” Draco blushed for a moment.

“If that is what he wants…” the blond said. Harry smiled and leaned back, “I just might,” he said, “and find a more… permanent way to get it. If I can have a break from my lessons.”

“What are you exactly learning?” Draco asked, looking a little curious.

“The Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration… the Dark Lord is teaching me everything,” Harry said, looking at Draco. “He’s tough but… I’m actually learning—today I actually made a poison and he praised me!”

“What about the other thing?” Draco asked.

“Pureblood society… no, no I am on my own about that,” Harry said, looking a little bashful.

“Why do you even want to learn about it?” Draco asked. “I know that we are superior but—”

Harry’s face turned red and the two Slytherins leaned forward, silently demanding an answer. “The submissive marriage clause…” he answered. “I just… I like that idea very much.”

“Such a submissive,” Draco smirked. Theo shared the same. “You want to be a submissive wife Harry?” he asked, “I wouldn’t peg you as the type.”

Harry’s cheeks blushed, “Yeah but… but I’ll still argue if I need to!”

“Good thing,” Theo nodded, “I like my boys to be a bit argumentative, don’t you Draco?” he chuckled.

“Shut up Nott,” Draco muttered. Harry didn’t know why but he smiled at Draco’s reaction. House-elves appeared, along with food that filled the table, “Finally—you,” Draco snapped, “get more food for Harry! He is joining us. How long do you have?” he asked.

“Forty minutes left I would say,” Harry said.

“Good. Move closer to me,” Draco said. Harry glanced at Theo, who looked amused, and moved his chair a little towards Draco.

“This doesn’t mean anything Draco,” he said softly, “you haven’t won my submission.”

“I haven’t figured if I wanted it or not,” Draco mused. “I need to see if you can be a good girl…”

“Don’t you mean good boy?” Harry asked, tilting his head slightly.

“That too,” Draco nodded. Harry laughed and, as if by magic, tension loosened between the three of them. Harry found throughout lunch that his smiles and laughter came freely and easily, especially with Theo. Both boys welcomed him and questioned him on everything he knew on Pureblood Society, which he answered with surprising accuracy. By the end of his lunch, Harry looked between the two of his new friends. “I know that blood purity means a lot … but to be honest I am a bit scared of it,” he said.

“Why is that Harry?” Theo asked.

“The submissive clause can be used with Half-bloods… however there is a way… for me to become pureblood,” Harry blushed. “I don’t know why but… thinking about it, it makes me feel weird. I’m disgusted by it and also drawn to it, like I am with the submissive clause. I just want to know what your thoughts are on it.”

“Do it,” Theo said. “It will give you a better standing—make you a better candidate to marry. Isn’t that right Draco?”

“It is,” Draco nodded. “I will be honest with you Harry, if you want to be my boyfriend, we can date as you are a half-blood… however our society will never allow me to marry a half-blood, not as long as they are not willing to cast away his muggle blood. I’ve heard of the way, but not it’s specifics. If you want boy, I can look into it.”

“I would like that,” Harry found himself blushing. His time was up, and he said goodbye to the two purebloods.

Draco and Theo watched Harry leave before turning to each other. “Well, that was interesting,” Theo said, leaning in his chair. “Do you think Potter would do it?”

“What? Throw away his muggleness? As if,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t have the courage.”

“Either way,” Theo hummed, “it is very interesting that Harry is interested in the submissive clause… I think he would be a good boyfriend, and submissive.”

“And what do you know about that stuff Nott?” Draco sighed, “you haven’t even kissed a boy.”

“That you know of,” Nott smirked. “Anyway, I think I’ll visit you more over the summer, I want to spend more time with Harry… and give him some tips on getting that body of his.”

“Whatever,” Draco scoffed. “Just watch, Potter will run from it. You’ll see.” Nott didn’t look convinced and just shook his head. Draco made a face and looked back at the door, secretly hoping that he was wrong.


	8. Fall

Ch. 8

Fall

A week. Harry has been learning from the Dark Lord for a week, and in that week a sort of habit formed itself. Harry still haven’t given the potion to his relatives, so every morning he had to steel himself, forgetting about the potion as the shadow-walkers come get him at precisely ten in the morning. The Dark Lord made the boy focus on the Dark Arts, he continued with the Severing spell, mastering it in only three days, before the Dark Lord made him turn his gaze to a crueler spell, the Cruciatus Curse. That spell proved to be a much bigger challenge. Every time he practiced it, Harry felt guilty, Voldemort enchanted the practice target to scream realistically, and it freaked Harry out every time. Every time Harry is done with the Dark Arts, the Dark Lord, thankfully, turns to a more familiar curriculum. The boy worked hard to earn his lunch breaks, which he always spent with Draco. Sometimes, Theodore Nott would be there, but Harry liked it better when it was just him and Draco. The talks were tense, and there were many periods of silence between the two of them, but so far Malfoy has yet to curse Harry out, so the boy assumed the blonde enjoyed his company.

On the seventh day of Harry’s lessons, the Dark Lord had a surprise for him. He brought with him a copy of the Daily Prophet, “It seems that even when you are doing nothing Potter, you get thrust into the limelight,” he mocked. Harry took the offered newspaper and frowned when he saw a picture of himself with the heading _Harry Potter: Delinquent or Attention Seeker?_

“You may read it if you have earned your break with the Malfoy child,” the Dark Lord said. “Needless to say, the Ministry is putting blame on yourself and Dumbledore on trying to cause a panic due to my return.”

“But my lord… you have returned,” Harry frowned, “why wouldn’t the Ministry believe that?”

“Because I do not want them to believe it, you foolish boy!” The Dark Lord snapped. “If the world began panicking before I’ve gathered my army, the consequences would be disastrous to say the least, for yourself as well, boy.”

“Then… my lord, have you—”

“No, this was all Fudge’s madness,” The Dark Lord said. “I have no part in this panic. But now you know… and now you will learn.” He moved his wand, and the training target appeared once more, however this time it looked different. Instead of being uncharacteristic, it now had the life-like appearance of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. “A better practice target, I believe,” the Dark Lord said with mirth. “The Cruciatus Curse, boy. I want its screams to be heard throughout the manor.”

“Y-Yes, my lord,” Harry nodded. He faced the dummy, which stared up at Harry with blank eyes. Aiming his wand, Harry’s lips parted, and he said with ease, _“Crucio.”_ The room was suddenly filled with the screams of Cornelius Fudge. Harry winced immediately and was only able to keep the spell lasting for half a minute before it was too much for him. He glanced at the Dark Lord, expecting to see a disappointed or furious face but instead was met with indifference. The high of the spell hit Harry, yes, but both that and the scream threw Harry off. The Dark Lord still silent, Harry turned to the practice target and casted the spell again. Immediately, his boy surged with an addictive power, dopamine and adrenaline flowing through his body into every fiver of his being, along with the fear and guilt that came with the screams. This time, Harry held on, gritting his teeth as he did his best to disassociate from the screams that he was causing. The more he did so, the less the target screaming, Harry was able to keep the spell going, however, with one look at Lord Voldemort, it was evident that Harry was disappointing the man.

“Potter, stop,” the Dark Lord commanded. Harry ceased, and looked up at the Dark Lord. “Your efficiency was waning, boy,” he said, “the target’s screams died out, not because of the pain, but from the lack of it. You must focus on the target, on the pain you are giving it. Hatred fuels the Dark Arts boy. Remember that! But so, does focus. You need both to complete the spell. Try it again, and this time focus. I want to hear the target beg for death.

“Yes, my lord,” Harry panted. He was starting to sweat from the energy the spells were sapping from him. He took a deep breath He turned to the practice Fudge once more and aimed his wand. It was hard, clearing his mind to be empty except for hatred and an intense focus, but once he did, Harry yelled out, “Crucio!” and the screams began once more.

He hated hearing them, he wanted to block out the screams, but Harry focused as his lord commanded. He focused on the screams, on the anguish faces the target was making, and through them did flashes of the real Minister appeared. The real Minister mocking Harry, calling him ridiculous, flashes of anger appeared in Harry’s soul, and he found the spell becoming easier, the screams more tolerable. The Dark Lord noticed this, and smiled. “Yes, yes… good Harry,” Voldemort said, “your anger is powerful, yes… I can feel it. It is not as radiant as when you’ve killed Wormtail, but the power is still there, locked away deep inside. Tap into it Harry, use your anger not just against your personal foes, but against mine as well. Use it as a weapon, and you will become a wizard far more powerful than Dumbledore could dream of. Use it, and become my apprentice… my heir… and succeed _him_. My old apprentice… my old Black.”

Harry found his anger growing, it could feel it throbbing inside him, hot and hard and powerful. He wanted touch into it, to bathe in it’s power, however he could only access a small amount, a small portion, but it was enough. The spell intensified, the screaming died down, not from relief, but from pain, and soon the target was gasping, “Please… please… kill me.”

But Harry did not stop. “Kill me! Kill me!” The spell continued. “I can’t take it! KILL ME!”

Harry screamed as well and, with a violent slash, the practice target fell to the floor with a thud, and Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and smiled as he saw a look of pride on Voldemort’s face. “You have done well Harry,” he said. “It took my last apprentice months do what you have just did. Though a practice target, it responds just as any human would. You have done well boy, remember this moment.”

Harry smiled, he felt something dark and comfortable grow within as he said with pride, “Thank you, my lord.”

“Come,” Voldemort said, “to our next lesson. If you continue this, mayhap I will tell you of my old apprentice… he was a part of the Black Family… however now he is gone. Which reminds me.” Voldemort turned suddenly and grabbed Harry’s arm, he pushed Harry’s sleeves up and examined his inner forearm, where the mark Voldemort gave him sat.

The dark black mark, before just a plain circle, was different, bigger, a small vein branched off from it, following Harry’s own blood veins, going down Harry’s arm for three inches before stopping. “Acceptable process for a week’s worth,” the Dark Lord said. “Come Harry, Potions.”

 

The Weasleys found themselves in a cramped situation. The day Cedric came to visit, and take the Twins as his boyfriends… and the twins took him as their, they moved for the summer out of the Burrow, and towards a secret place, a secure place, a place that only certain people knew about. That place was the current headquarters for a group of wizards Dumbledore gathered to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, known as the Order of the Phoenix, Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The home was the ancestral home of the Black Family, and it finally gave Sirius Black a place to stay permanently, though he loathed it so.

The Weasleys were there to help make the place habitual, which was why Fred and George Weasley were found, one afternoon, in an old bedroom that was piled high with broken furniture, cluttered garbage, and artifacts unknown and uncared, the results of years of neglect. However, the two were not cleaning, instead they were hunched over a letter which came from their new boyfriend.

_Boys,_

_I know that you’re on vacation, your mother told me as much, though I wish that you could tell me exactly where you’re vacationing. This might be strange, considering we’ve only dated a week and yet been together physically a couple hours, but I’ve went into the muggle village and found some books to help me, well, understand my role in our new relationship._

_I want to love you both, I really do, I want us three to love each other and have a deep romantic connection, yet I also want to fulfil your umm “kinkier” desires. I don’t know a lot about being a “Sir” as it’s called however I do know that I’m supposed to give orders so here are my first orders. I want the both of you to be healthy so, you both will find a camera and begin exercising, focusing on your butts and legs. Though Fred, I want you to be stockier than your brother so you will also work on your whole body to be more like mine. Below I’ve added what I do, I’ve been doing it for a year so far and I love it. George, you’ll focus on keeping slim but with a very nice butt. With the camera, I want pictures every three days of your developments starting with the day you get this letter._

_Until then, I hope you stay safe and please don’t do anything to get yourselves in trouble._

_Cedric._

The boys found Cedric’s workout regiment below and smiled to themselves, “I knew we made the right decision,” Fred said.

“Looks like he’s fitting in nicely,” George agreed, “come on, I’m sure one Black must have liked doing exercises—and I still have my camera from when we went to Egypt.”

George ran off to get the camera while Fred placed the letter down on a bed. He began pushing stuff out of the way so they would have some more room to pose for their new boyfriend. George came back with the camera to see his brother already naked. “Got it,” he smiled, closing and locking the door.

“Get naked,” Fred ordered, already posing foolishly. The twins laughed and giggled at each other as their cock started to grow hard as George got his camera to levitate in front of them, taking pictures automatically while the two posed, showing off their features, including hugging and pressing against each other. “Think we have enough?” Fred asked.

“One more,” George said, and caught his twin by surprise kissing him. It felt weird, wrong, and totally taboo, yet he knew that Cedric would liked it, so he kept at it as the camera flashed, pulling away instantly. “Now that’s enough,” the Weasley twin smirked. “Shame though, I’m sure Harry would have loved this.”

“Poor boy,” Fred nodded. “A sub without anyone to talk to, I bet right now he’s stuck at his muggle home.”

“No sexy man to take charge.”

“No Malfoy to annoy.”

“No magic happening at all,” Fred shook his head. “Such a blighted existence.”

“What does that word even mean again?” George asked, picking up the pictures that his camera developed and let fall to the floor, “Oh this is a very good one,” he muttered to himself.

“It means, dear twin, that while we are here, Harry is alone and Dumbledore warned Ron and Hermione not to tell Harry anything about this place unless their letters get stolen or anything,” Fred said.

George stared at him for a moment before gasping, “You used them without me!” he said, “We promised that we would use the Extendable Ears together all the time!” Fred gave a wicked smirk and playfully hit George’s flaccid penis, “You should have asked,” he said.

George gave a look before looking down at the pictures they took. “You know… I think Harry might need some _encouragement_ if you catch my drift,” he said. “I mean, Ron’s been here a week and Hermione just got here… lord knows their letters will be vague about this. So…” George took one photo and held it between his fingers, a wicked smile appearing, mirroring his twin, “Why don’t we send a letter of our own? I’m sure Daddy Cedric won’t mind us helping Harry—he is the boy who brought us together.”

“What an excellent idea George!” Fred smirked, “Let’s get the perfect picture then right away—I will go get our box from our room.”

 

Harry did not expect, returning home, to find three letters waiting for him. He was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sleep, but knew that any moment Aunt Petunia would call him down to get dinner started. So he went to the letters and smiled, they were from Ron, Hermione, as well as surprisingly the twins. He opened Ron’s up first, the first letter of the summer, only to see that it was short.

_Hiya Harry, sorry I can’t tell you everything but we’ll be extremely busy with something. Dumbledore told us not to tell you—but you’ll know soon enough hopefully!_

_Ron_

Harry frowned, _What could be so important that Dumbledore wouldn’t let Harry know, but Ron and the Weasleys could?_ It wasn’t new, Dumbledore keeping secrets from Harry, but still, something inside him went sour when he thought that the Weasleys were together doing something important, while Harry was stuck with the Dursleys. Yes, he had his Lord and Draco, but it’s different. Hermione’s letter read in the same tone as Ron’s saying that she just got to wherever the Weasleys are, but cannot talk about it.

Feeling left out and a little empty, Harry picked up the twins’, hoping that it wasn’t in the same vein as Ron and Hermione’s. Immediately a photo dropped from their letter, laying face down. Harry glanced at it before looking at the letter.

_Hiya Harry!_

_Blah blah we can’t tell you where we are! But we are not here for that! We want to remind you to be a good boy! And that means being good and obedient like us! So remember, no playing, no naughtiness—and no dressing up like us because you are too young mister! That is unless Malfoy wants you too! So be a good boy, a good sub, and a good you!_

_Fred and George_

Harry was confused at that, before bending down to pick up the picture, blushing instantly. It was a picture of both twins, wearing barely any leather, in a very lewd position. He quickly took the picture and letter and stuffed them into his sock drawer, where the obedience potion still sat. He was a little annoyed with Ron and Hermione but was glad for Fred and George’s letter. He hoped that wherever they are, that he can join them soon. And so, with that hope, the month of July passed. Harry was a model student for the Dark Lord, his talks with Draco and Theo kept at a somewhat pleasant and polite pace, and it was not until Harry’s birthday that both his training and his relationship took dramatic changes.


	9. Approval

Ch. 9

Approval

Harry’s fifteenth birthday started as any other day. He woke up early and, as with any day, worried himself as he glanced at the obedience potion still hidden in his sock drawer as he got dressed. Letters and the Daily Prophet waited for him, the letters already on the ground while the owl who brought Harry his newspaper waited patiently for the money. Harry paid, watched the owl fly away, and threw the paper to the side, going for the letters instead.

The letters were all from his friends, wishing him Happy Birthday but still kept vague with them “being busy” and him “finding out soon.” Harry didn’t have time to angst over it, however, as soon he had to cook breakfast for the Dursleys, eating little while they weren’t looking, and as he returned to his room, the shadow-walkers were waiting for him.

“Harry,” Lord Voldemort said, “if memory serves correctly, today is your birthday.”

“I…yes it is, my lord, but how do you know that?” Harry asked.

“That is something that I will explain later,” The Dark Lord said. “It involves an item that I only know half the details on, and I will not share until I know fully on what it is.”

“Of course, my lord,” Harry nodded. He knew by now that his lord would tell him when he, Harry, was ready. After all, he already shared a tiny bit about his first apprentice. The boy moved over towards the section of the basement where they practiced the Dark Arts, the Dark Lord following.

“However, for now,” the Dark Lord continued, “we will continue with your lessons. I must admit Harry; I am surprised by your growth with the Dark Arts. Wizards are born, you see, with a natural inclination towards either the Dark Arts, those that are actual dark wizardry, needing hatred and negative emotions to fuel, and the Light, which, for legal reasons, involve everything else, and yet also those that require positive emotions. Love, happiness, etc. When first we started, your soul and magic was of the later, drowning in Light. But now… you are reaching a point, slowly but surely the Dark Arts are corrupting you Harry. You are reaching a tipping point, one where you will have to choose which Arts to commit your body and soul. But before that, there is still lessons to be done. We shall begin with the Cruciatus Curse again…” The Dark Lord gave a sadistic smirk and moved his hand. A torch was lit and next to it was a blindfolded man, looking extremely scared.

“A Ministry worker who knows what I need to know,” the Dark Lord chuckled. “Loosen the Unspeakable’s lips, my apprentice, and you will be done for the day.”

Harry nodded, swallowing down a sudden rush of guilt and dread. He turned to the man and did his best to breath normally. He was an older looking man, perhaps fifties, or late forties with salt and pepper hair. He was a bit overweight, as Harry saw, and not the best of shape as he was already wheezing.

He wanted to feel sick, he wanted to feel revolted and throw his wand down, screaming that he will never hurt a man. But instead, Harry found himself raising his wand, aiming it at the man and from his lips spilled out, “ _Crucio_.”

The man’s whimpering turned into screams. He fell to the ground pathetically, his body convulsing uncontrollably as he felt millions of invisible burning knives endlessly stabbing him, leaving no wounds, only the pain such an attack would inflict. Harry’s hand stood still, his stance solid, and eyes locked onto the man, never looking away, though a voice inside him wanted to. That voice, however, died away quickly and his eyes fixated on the screaming man, his own eyes blinded by a blindfold, his sausage fingers raking against the stone floor, as though that would stop the pain.

Then it happened. The man began to change in Harry’s mind, growing bigger, fatter, his neck veining angrily red and his clothes changing, becoming muggle-ish until, in Harry’s mind, he was torturing his Uncle Vernon. Even his voice changed to be his uncle’s, and, with this release for his years of frustrations, the hatred in Harry surged, and the screams only gotten louder. And so Harry tortured the man, listening to his uncle’s screams inside his mind, his face a deadly neutral.

The Dark Lord watched, amused and satisfied, as his young apprentice continued the torture spell, performing it more perfectly than any of his Death Eaters. There was hatred in the boy, real hatred, and it was the Dark Lord who is able to mold it.

For a full hour, the Unspeakable screamed under Harry’s torture. It wasn’t until that his throat went dry, and he started hacking and coughing, that the Dark Lord placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “That is enough Harry,” he said gently. “You have fulfilled your role perfectly.”

“Thank you my lord,” Harry said. His body felt lighter and his heart swelled at those words. He smiled genuinely at his lord, no longer scared or off put by his features.  Voldemort nodded and patted Harry’s shoulder twice before walking slowly towards the Unspeakable. “You will die here today,” he began to say, and Harry saw the instant fear that froze the man. “However, you can make your death mean something… just tell me it is what you are hiding… what is in the Department of Mysteries that concerns myself.” The man tremored, though blinded he lifted his head and tried to speak, earning only half-wheezes and dry coughs. Voldemort tutted and pulled out his wand. He aimed it at the man and was silent for a moment. Harry watched silently as Voldemort stood there, his wand pointed at the man while he trembled.

“I see,” the Dark Lord said after a while. “Now… was that so hard, Mr. Rolling?” He chuckled and stood to his full before aiming his wand at the man. _“Avada Kedavra.”_ There was a flash of green light, and the Unspeakable laid dead.

Voldemort pocketed his wand and turned to the darkest corner. _“Lunch, Nagini,”_ he hissed in Parseltongue. And Harry watched as a thick snake, thicker and longer than a man’s arm, slithered towards the body. Harry’s attention was drawn from it, however, as Voldemort said, “Look at me.” Harry obeyed and looked upon his Lord. “I have promised to share with you when I know fully what is hidden there, and I shall,” the Dark Lord said. “However, I do not know all as of now. All I can share is that what I am looking for is in a part of the Ministry called the Department of Mysteries… and it involves an item that will turn the tide of this war, perhaps granting us a victory before it even starts.”

“That’s good, isn’t it my lord?” Harry asked.

Voldemort nodded. “It is Harry, and I would not have know what I do now without your help. And so… I believe I’ll tell you more about my old apprentice.” The Dark Lord moved to a chair and sat down in it. Harry immediately moved to sit across of his Lord. “He was a Black, the same family as your godfather Sirius Black. However, he was before Sirius’ time. His name was Alphard Black. And yes, Harry, he was my first apprentice, as well as companion. He died to poisoning in Nineteen Seventy-seven. Growing up the boy was malleable, just as you are, and he has chosen me to be his Dominant just as you have chosen the Malfoy boy. I’ve used him, and he used me. But that is all that I will share with today. You have done well Harry, remember that. You are free for the rest of the day, consider it a birthday present from your master.”

“Thank you my Lord,” Harry said softly, “and… thank you, for sharing that with me. I… I’ll live up to be like Alphard.”

“You won’t,” Voldemort said. “You will be _greater._ I will not make the same mistakes, Harry.”

Harry nodded, “Greater than,” he said, “thank you, my lord.” Harry stood up and left the basement without even a glance towards the body. His feet moved automatically, bringing him willingly and eagerly towards Draco Malfoy, who was again accompanied by Theodore Nott.

Harry found them as they were the first time Harry found them, outside Draco’s room on the terrace, this time the two were playing chess, both boys locked in serious concentration as they commanded their pieces. Harry walked up to them softly, nary making a noise, even as he pulled his chair and looked between the two of them. “Harry,” Draco said in a way of greeting.

Theo, however, smiled up at Harry before looking back at the game. Harry smiled back and decided to relax in his chair to watch. The game continued for another ten minutes, with Theo becoming the victor. “Checkmate,” he smiled. “Good luck next time Draco.” He chuckled and turned to Harry, “Hello Harry, sorry about that, I had to beat Draco here. Happy birthday by the way.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. “How did you know?”

“Not telling,” Theo smiled, “I got you this, by the way.” He pulled out a small present and gave it to Harry. Harry missed the confused look on Draco’s face, but Theo didn’t, the boy giving the blonde and sweet smile.

Harry opened the present to reveal a small black box, inside of which was a cute silver bangle that looked simplistic yet eloquent. “I thought that you would like a bit of jewelry to spice your life,” Theo said. “You may not be a jewelry boy presa, but nobody can say no to a nice bracelet.”

“Thank you Theo,” Harry smiled, putting the bracelet on. He turned to Draco and said, “The Dark Lord let me out today, so my day is free.”

“That’s good,” Draco nodded. “Harry… I didn’t know that your birthday is today.”

“Oh, no worries,” Harry smiled, “you didn’t need to get me anything…”

Draco looked relieved and relaxed in his chair, “That’s good,” he sighed, “so, can I ask what the Dark Lord had you do today?”

Harry bit his lower lip and looked between the two of them. “That’s a bit complicated,” he said. “I don’t know if I can share today’s…”

“Alright, then I won’t ask,” Draco said kindly. It was strange, somehow, in the short time they had together, they moved from rivals to somewhat friendly together. Harry liked it and wanted more. He was sure that Draco knew, however he never would act on it. It was up to Draco to decide.

“You have the rest of the day free, however, isn’t that right Harry?” Theo asked. “That’s what you said, right?”

“Yeah, I have the rest of the day off,” Harry smiled.

“Then come! I want to see if you can play a better game than Draco,” Theo joked. “He is good, however I need something more challenging, and playing against a brash Gryffindor might be that.”

“Brash?” Harry said, “is that what you think of me Theo?”

“Maybe,” Theo said, “but a game of chess might fix that.”

“Alright… however since I’m rubbish at chess, I think I’ll need someone to help me with,” Harry said. He looked at Draco with a small, shy smile, “can you help me Draco?” he asked, his voice changing slightly. The blonde’s cheeks tinted red.

“Of course Potter,” he said, “would be rude of me not to. Move closer.”

Harry moved to sit closely to Draco, Draco pulled him even closer so that their legs were pressed against each other. Theo chuckled at this and set the board again for a fresh game of chess. Harry worked with Draco during the game, looking towards him whenever he needed advice and whispering his moves in advance to him to have the blonde’s opinion at times. Theo Nott was a good sport through all this, playing as though Harry was his only opponent. There were times where Draco gave a suggestion that Harry disobeyed, earning him looks from both boys. “Why would you do that? He could have taken the king in a couple moves!” Draco demanded one time when Harry sent his knight in clear line of Theo’s queen.

Theo ordered his queen to go after the knight, leaving her open to get the king, only for Harry to take the queen with his bishop. “Because of that,” Harry smiled sweetly at both boys. The two Slytherins shared a look, “Wow Harry,” Theo said, “I didn’t think you the type.”

“What type?” Harry asked, confused.

“I thought you would try to save all your pieces,” Theodore explained, “I never thought that you would willingly sacrifice a piece to take my queen.” Harry smiled at this and relaxed towards Draco a little.

“Well… that’s what I was taught,” Harry shrugged, “that’s how you play chess right? Sacrifice pieces in order to win.” Both Slytherins laughed, and the game continued. It went on until almost lunch time, with Harry ultimately ending up being the victor. “Well,” Theo congratulated, “you had help but good job Harry,” he smiled.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t have done it without Draco,” Harry smiled, “it was fun, right Malfoy?” He teased, sticking out his tongue.

“It was,” Draco smirked. He looked thoughtful for a moment before standing up. “Stand, Harry,” he ordered.

Harry did so and the two stared at each other. Draco licked his lips and leaned forward, capturing Harry’s lips in his own. Sparks flew between them, Harry’s body felt as though it was electrified and his eyes slipped close as his arms moved around Draco, and he felt Draco’s arms around him. His heart beating fast, their lips danced, only breaths shared between them until Draco parted slightly to lean his forehead against Harry’s. “I will earn your submission Harry,” he breathed, “and I will do so… as your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” Harry asked.

“I know you’ll have me,” Draco gave a smirk. Harry gave a chuckle, “So confident Draco…”

“But I am right,” Draco said, “so will you?”

“Will I what?” Harry asked.

“Start dating me.”

Harry smiled and closed the distance again, kissing Draco fiercely. “Yes, Sir,” he smiled. “I’ll be your boyfriend, Draco.”

“Good, then come sit next to me, I want to hold my boyfriend while we eat,” Draco said, and they kissed once more before rejoining Theo at the table, who only smiled slyly. “And what are you smiling at, Nott?” Draco asked.

“Two idiots who took longer than I thought to get together,” Theo said, and before either could argue, he summoned a house-elf and ordered lunch for the three of them.

The rest of the day went by lovely for Harry and his new boyfriend. They did not spend every moment kissing, instead just sitting together, Draco always having a possessive hand on Harry. When it was time to leave, Harry did not want to go. Draco walked with him to the basement, which was empty of any evidence that Harry tortured a man that Voldemort killed. “How will you get home?” Draco asked, looking around. “You obviously did not use floo powder.”

“Just watch,” Harry winked. He walked towards a dark corner and looked around but found no red eyes. He frowned, “Shadow walkers,” he explained. “Creatures that exist only in the shadows and darkness… they allow me to move from the Dursleys’ to here… but I guess they won’t show themselves if you’re looking.” He frowned and turned, “Sorry Draco.”

“Fine then,” Draco said, looking annoyedly at the corner. “Then I will see you tomorrow, Harry,” he said, “I’ll have some orders for you by then…” he gave a smirk and kissed Harry one last time before walking away. Harry watched his boyfriend go and turned to the corner to see the red eyes.

“You made me look foolish,” he complained to them and walked towards them, and into the darkness.

The rest of the day, Harry felt like his body weighed nothing and his heart sang every song possible. Especially when Uncle Vernon approached Harry to tell him that he, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were going out for the night. For once in his life, Harry relaxed in the empty house. It squeaked around him. The pipes gurgled. But none could detract from Harry’s happiness from the day’s events with Draco. And then, quite distinctly, he heard a crash in the kitchen below. He sat bolt upright, listening intently. The Dursleys couldn’t be back, it was much too soon, and in any case he hadn’t heard voices.

 _Burglars,_ he thought, sliding off the bed and onto his feet—but a split second later it occurred to him that burglars would keep their voices down, and whoever was moving around in the kitchen was certainly not troubling to do so.

He took his wand from his bedside and stood facing his bedroom door, listening with all his might. Next moment he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open.

Harry stood motionless, staring through the open door at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment and then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs.

His heart shot upward into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; eight or nine of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

“Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone’s eye out,” said a low, growling voice.

Harry’s heart was thumping uncontrollably. He knew that voice, but he did not lower his wand.

“Professor Moody?”


	10. Flight

Ch. 10

Flight

“I don’t know so much about ‘Professor,’” growled the voice, “never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly.

Harry lowered his wand only slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. “It’s all right, Harry. We’ve come to take you away.”

Harry’s heart leapt. He knew that voice too, though he hadn’t heard it for more than a year.

“Professor Lupin?”

“Why are we all standing in the dark?” a third voice said, this one completely unfamiliar to Harry. It was a woman’s. _“Lumos.”_

A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing intently up at him, some craning their necks for a better look. Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more gray hair than when Harry had said good-bye to him, and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at harry, who tried to smile back through his shock.

“Oooh, he looks just as I thought he would,” said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She looked the youngest there; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. “Wotcher, Harry!”

“Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus,” a bald black wizard said, standing farthest back. “He looks exactly like James.”

“Except the eyes. Lily’s eyes.”

Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled grey hair, and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. “Are you quite sure it’s him, Lupin?” he growled. “It’d be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?”

“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” Lupin asked.

“A stag,” Harry answered automatically.

“That’s him, Mad-Eye.”

Harry descended the stairs, very conscious of everybody still staring at him, keeping his wand out as he did so. He didn’t want to put it away for any reason. His eyes moved from one person to the next until he was just close enough for Lupin to take and shake his hand. “How are you?” he asked, looking at Harry closely.

“F-Fine…”

“If you’re done, hurry up,” Mad-Eye growled out. “Want to be gone before any Death Eaters get the wiser, or worse muggles.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, “What are you all doing here for?”

“We’re here to bring you to someplace safe,” Lupin said.

“The Burrow?” Harry asked.

“No, not the Burrow,” Lupin said, motioning Harry towards the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, all still eyeing Harry cautiously. “Too risky. We’ve set up headquarters somewhere undetectable. It’s taken a while…”

Mad-Eye was now sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursley’s many labor-saving appliances.

“That is Alastor Moody, Harry,” Lupin said, pointing at him.

“I know.”

“And this is Nymphadora—”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora, Remus,” the young witch said with a shudder, “it’s Tonks.”

“—Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only,” finished Lupin. “This is Kingsley Shacklebolt—” he pointed to the tall black wizard who bowed— “Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle—”

“When are we leaving?” Harry interrupted. “I’m sorry but, from Moody’s tone, it sounded like we were pressed with time.”

“We are,” Moody grunted. “We leave as soon as we see the signal that it’s clear.”

“Yes that,” Lupin nodded, he turned to Harry, “We’re leaving as soon as it takes you to pack Harry, we’re using brooms, it’s the safest option.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “I’ll go and get packed right away—” he stopped and had a thought. “Professor Lupin, is Hedwig there? Where we are going?”

“Your owl? Yes, the Weasleys brought her with them… did they not tell you?” Lupin frowned.

“They did not, but it doesn’t matter,” Harry said. He glanced at the group of wizards once more. “Erm… I’ll just go then and pack up.”

Before anyone could say a word, Harry ran back to his room and grabbed his luggage, already half-full of his wizardry clothing, and began shoving his clothing and books into it, making sure to hide his more provocative books under piles of underwear and socks. He even made sure to bring the Obedience Potion, still hiding it by socks, and more underwear and clothing. He was just closing his trunk lid as the door opened and the girl, Tonks, walked in. “Came to help,” she said happily and looked around. “Oh… you’re a fast packer Harry!”

“Err thanks,” Harry said. Tonks looked around and noticed Hedwig’s cage, “Oh, I can help with that,” she said and pointed her wand at it. _“Scourgify!”_ A few feathers and droppings vanished. She gave a small shrug and said, “I never got a hang of those householdy kinds of spells. Well, got anything? Trunk? Cauldron? Broom—Woah! Is that a Firebolt?”

Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry’s right hand. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius, an international standard broomstick. “And I’m still riding a Comet Two Sixty,” Tonks said enviously. “Ah well … let’s go! _Locomotor Trunk.”_

Harry’s trunk rose a few inches into the air. Holding her wand like a conductor’s baton, Tonks made it hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them. Hedwig’s cage in her left hand. Harry followed her down the stairs carrying his broomsticks. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw red eyes. He turned around quickly only to see nothing but shadows.

 _I wonder if Moody can see them,_ he thought to himself, thinking of Mad Eye’s magical blue eye. He hoped that they were invisible even to him, and was glad to see Moody acting normal, for him, as he and Tonks returned with the others.

“Right, everyone out,” Moody grunted and huddling Harry closely, the group of wizards escorted Harry out of number four Privet Drive and into the clear night.

“Clear night,” Moody grunted, his magical eye scanning the heavens. “Could’ve done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you,” he barked at Harry, “we’re going to be flying in close formation. Tonks’ll be right in front of you, keep close to her tail. Lupin’ll be covering you from below. I’m going to be behind you. The rest’ll be circling us. We don’t break ranks for anything got me? If one of us is killed—”

“Nobody will be killed,” Shaklebolt interrupted in a slow calm voice.

“—the others keep flying, don’t stop, don’t break ranks.”

Harry was only half listening. He wanted to be gone from the Dursleys. Gone from the temptation of using the obedience potion on them… but more importantly he just wants to be gone so that he can write to Draco and his Lord about what is happening. Soon there was a signal, and Harry mounted his broom with everyone else.

Silence.

Time passed.

Another signal, and they were off!

Wind rushed against Harry’s face, the col night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks. He felt as though his heart was going to explode with pleasure, he was flying again, flying away from Privet Drive as he’d been fantasizing in his dreams.

Higher and higher they flew until Harry was sure that nobody could see them, and so on and on they went, nobody talking, the guard too serious, too busy looking out for troubles unknown. But Harry didn’t care, he was having too much fun flying, too much fun being free. Tonks would give him looks, smiling and edging him on with tricks, which he replied with his own. Through the serious mood, he had fun, honest fun, for the first time that wasn’t with Draco or Blaise.

They flew through the night, it was almost half to morning when Moody signaled to descend. They were heading for the largest collection of lights Harry had ever seen, a huge, sprawling crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lowe and lower they flew, until Harry could see individual headlights and streetlamps, chimneys, and television aerials.

They landed on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks was already unbuckling Harry’s trunk from her broom. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamp, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

“Where are we?” Harry asked Lupin, but Lupin said quietly, “In a minute.”

Moody was rummaging in his cloak, and pulled out a small device and a piece of paper. He gave Harry the paper while he used the device to steal light from the nearby streetlamp. Harry had to read by wand light provided by Lupin.

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

“What’s the Order of the—”

“Quite boy!” Moody growled out. “Wait till we’re inside!” He pulled the parchment from Harry’s hand and burned it. Harry heard a rumbling and looked up. The buildings numbered eleven and thirteen seemed to be moving apart, as a completely new building, looking just the same as those on either side, came into existence. The occupants in number eleven and thirteen did not look surprised or reacted as, right before Harry, stood a new building, labeled number twelve.

They went inside, Harry looking around at the newly materialized door and building. Lupin puled out his wand and tapped the door once. It creaked open and he was shoved inside by Moody.

Harry could smell damp, dust, and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had the feeling of a derelict building. He looked over his shoulder and saw the others filling in behind him, Lupin and Tonks carrying his trunk and Hedwig’s cage. Moody was standing on the top step and releasing the balls of light, they flew back to their bulbs and the square beyond glowed momentarily with orange light before Moody limped inside and closed the front door, so that the darkness in the hall became complete.

In the back of Harry’s mind, he thought he would see the familiar red eyes, the shadow-walkers watching him in this new location, but nothing, either they were hiding, or they could not enter this place for some reason. Or, perhaps, they are just incredibly shy.

Harry heard a hissing sound as Moody lit old fashion lamps all along the walls with his wand, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper rand threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. Harry heard something scuttling behind the baseboard.

There were hurried footsteps and Ron’s mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome as she hurried toward them, though Harry noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time he had seen her.

“Oh, Harry, it’s lovely to see you!” she whispered, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm’s length and examining him critically. “You’re looking peaky, you need feeding up, but you’ll have to wait a bit for dinner, I’m afraid. …” She turned to the gang of wizards behind Harry and whispered urgently, “He’s just arrived, the meeting’s started…”

The wizards behind Harry all made noises of interest and excitement and began to file past Harry toward the door that Mrs. Weasley just came out of. Harry made to follow Lupin, but Mrs. Weasley stopped him.

“No, Harry, the meeting’s only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting’s over and then we’ll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall,” she added in an urgent whisper.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to wake anything up.”

“What d’you—”

“I’ll explain later. I’ve got to hurry, I’m supposed to be at the meeting—I’ll just show you where you’re sleeping.”

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led him on tiptoes past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it was made from a severed troll’s leg, they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snoutlike nose.

“Mrs. Weasley—”

“Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear. I’ve really got to dash,” Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly. “There”—they had reached the second landing—“you’re the door on the right. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

And she hurried off downstairs again.

Harry crossed the landing, turned the bedroom doorknob, which was shaped like a serpent’s head, and opened the door. He was alone in the room, and immediately locked the door behind him, seeing a nearby chair and pushed it to the doorknob.

A sense of high anxiety filled the boy as he searched drastically for paper and a writing utensil, finding a pen that Hermione must have dropped, and several crumbled pieces of paper. Spreading it out on a nearby cluttered desk, Harry began writing quickly, doing his best to keep it legible.

_My Lord,_

_Quick things happened since I’ve returned from Malfoy Manor today. The Dursleys left, apparently winning an award, and I was left alone only to be visited by a group of wizards, Professor Lupin and Professor Moody among them, along with a Kingsley Shaklebolt and Tonks. They all apparently work with Dumbledore for this Order of the Phoenix and that is where I am now, in the headquarters of the Order. However, I know nothing of this, they’ve shoved me in a room before I could ask questions, they keep whispering as though the house itself would hear them. My friends are supposed to come in and tell me everything, I don’t know how useful that’ll be, I’ll most likely be shouting at them, I am so furious at them. I can hear them coming I think, there are footsteps outside. I’ll end this letter now and write one to my boyfriend now, give me a reason why I have paper and pen._

_Please tell me how I should go forward_

_Your apprentice,_

_Harry_

Harry glanced around at the door room, breathing a sigh when he saw several red eyes staring at him. “You useless cowards!” he whispered, “can’t you watch me when I’m _with_ people?” He quickly ran across the room towards them, and thrust the letter into the darkness. “Give this to my lord immediately, I do not care if you are interrupting!” he commanded in a fierce whisper. He felt a hand grab the letter and let go, immediately going to the desk again, pulling the chair from the door as he did so, and sat down in front of the paper and pen and began writing.

_Draco,_

_Would you believe me that I miss you already? I suppose it is natural to miss your boyfriend, but still it feels as though we have seen each other on—_

“HARRY!” Hermione has thrown herself at Harry in a hug that almost knocked themselves both onto the floor. “Ron! He’s here! Harry’s here! Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless—but we couldn’t tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t, oh we’ve got so much to tell you—”

“Hermione,” Harry found himself saying in a venomous tone, “as happy and furious I am with both you and Ron, can you please let go of me? I can’t breathe, you got my neck, and I want to finish my letter to my boyfriend.”

“Oh, right of course, sorry,” Hermione blushed, and she removed her arms from Harry’s neck gently, clearly embarrassed, before stopping. “Wait… did I hear you right?”

Harry turned to look at his friends. _Show time,_ he thought to himself. “Yeah, you did,” Harry said. “I was writing to my boyfriend that I am alright.”

 


	11. Obedience

Ch. 11

Obedience

“Your boyfriend?” Ron repeated. “What are you talking about Harry?”

Harry stood up slowly and turned to his friends, “I mean,” he said in a slow, angry voice, “that while you two have been palling around in here, getting able to join everything that going around here, I was stuck with the Dursleys! And while your vague letters didn’t tell me crap I kept getting long, detailed letters from my boyfriend, which I thought friends were supposed to do!”

“We don’t know everything,” Ron said, “We’re not allowed to go in those meetings! Mum won’t let us!”

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL!” Harry found himself screaming, “YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT—WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM DEMENTORS?”

Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had over the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being constantly left in the dark. All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally bursting their boundaries. For a moment, he thought that his Lord would have been so proud of him.

“WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!”

Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned, and at the loss of anything to say, while Hermione looked on the verge of tears.

“BUT WHY SHOULDN’T I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? HUH? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?”

“Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—” Hermione began.

“CAN’T’VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU’D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL. BUT _DUMBLEDORE_ _MADE YOU SWEAR—”_

“Well, he did—”

“FOUR WEEKS I’VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FOUND OUT WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON! FOUR WEEKS AND THANK GOD FOR MY BOYFRIEND BECAUSE HE HAS BEEN SO MUCH USEFUL THAN EITHER OF YOU!”

“Harry, we wanted—”

“I SUPPOSED YOU’VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN’T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—”

“No, honest—”

“Harry, we’re really sorry!” Hermione said desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. “You’re absolutely right, Harry—I’d be furious if it was me!”

Harry glared at her, still breathing deeply, then turned away from them again, pacing up and down the room, noticing briefly that Hedwig was in it, looking scared in her cage at Harry. Finally, he dropped back in his chair, leaned over his letter. There was a long pause.

Then, without looking at them, he asked, “What even is this place?”

“Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Ron said at once.

“And would you be kind to inform me of what that is?” Harry asked, “Should I know it?”

“You shouldn’t,” Hermione said, “It’s a secret organization Dumbledore made, he’s in charge of it. It’s the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.”

“How many?”

“Quite a few people—”

“we’ve met about twenty of them,” Ron said, “but we think there are more…”

Harry nodded. “So, you are not allowed to go to the meetings,” he said slowly, and turning to look at them, “I expect you all still have a way to listening in and finding out?”

“We do,” Hermione said, looking a little relieved. “Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, only we’ve stopped recently because Mrs. Weasley found out and started tossing them, so they had to hide them.”

“I see,” Harry nodded. He turned back to his letter and picked up his quill again. He played with it a bit, before asking, “And what have you guys been doing? Since you are not allowed in the meeting. You said you’ve been busy.”

“We have, decontaminating the house,” Hermione said. “It’s been empty for ages and stuff’s been breeding in here. We’ve managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we’re doing the drawing room tomorrow.”

“Harry, can I ask you something?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“What?”

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Ron asked, “Why haven’t you told Hermione and me about him? I mean… we’re not judgey… are we?” he said, looking at Hermione hesitantly, “I’m not,” he added.

Harry gave them a long stare. “I have not told you because I’m still in the closet, as for him… it’s Draco.”

“No!”

“Yes Ron,” Harry said, “Got a problem?”

“It’s Malfoy!”

“And?”

“MALFOY!” Ron said louder.

“I heard you the first time,” Harry said, founding himself oddly relaxing in his chair as he turned it around to face them.

“He’s a git!”

“He is,” Harry agreed.

“He called Hermione a mudblood!”

“I’m working on him apologizing.”

“He’s evil!”

“That’s a lie.”

“He’s—he’s—He’s Malfoy!” Ron said again.

Harry sighed and surprised himself as he said, “If I didn’t know better Ron, I say you’re jealous.”

“I—Harry, you can’t date him! Why not someone else? Like Dean! Or Seamus, I think they’re gay too—or, or maybe Neville? He gave you those looks right?”

“No, I’m dating Draco,” Harry said.

“How about Charlie? You like older guys right?” Ron said desperately, “anyone but Malfoy!” Harry found himself laughing. It wasn’t cruel, or vicious, just laughing, pure and joyous.

“I’m sorry Ron,” he laughed, “but as much as I like Charlie, I’m dating Draco.”

“But… but… Hermione, help me please!” Ron said.

Hermione had a weird expression on her face, “I uh… I don’t mind, you know, about you dating a boy, Harry, but maybe Ron’s right and… can you give me time to digest it? I mean, with Malfoy we all have a history with him.”

“Fine, I’ll give you until tomorrow,” Harry shrugged, “now, if I can finish my letter?” The two looked at each other before sitting down on the beds, and Harry turned back to his letter. The room was silent, except for the scratching of Harry’s quill. Ron and Hermione looked as though they still had many questions and concerns, however they knew that it would be better to ask once Harry had calmed and finished his letter.

As soon as he finished, there was a loud crack in the room, and Harry turned to see Fred and George, “Knew I heard Harry yelling,” Fred smiled, he and his brother materializing into the room.

“Will you stop doing that,” Hermione said weakly to the twins, who looked stockier than the last time Harry saw them, their butts looking bigger.

“”Hello Harry,” George smiled. “Just wanted to pop in to say that you are interfering with reception, Extendable Ears,” he added in response to Harry’s raised eyebrows, holding up a string that trailed out onto the landing. “We’re trying to hear what’s going on downstairs.”

“You want to be careful,” Ron said, “if Mum sees one of them again…”

“It’s worth the risk, there’s a major meeting they’re having,” Fred said. “Even Snape’s there!”

“Snape’s part of the Order?” Harry demanded.

“Yup,” George nodded, “Giving a report. Top secret.”

 _Did he tell his followers about me? Did the Malfoys?_ Harry worried. _No, no it’s no use worrying, worrying only leads to stupid decisions. Have to be smart._

“Git,” Fred said idly.

“He’s on our side now,” Hermione said reprovingly.

Ron snorted, “Doesn’t stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us…”

“Bill doesn’t like him either,” Fred said.

“Bill’s in the order?” Harry asked. “Is he here? I thought he was working in Egypt.”

“he applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order,” Fred explained. “He says he misses the tombs, but,” he smirked, “there are compensations…”

“Excuse me?” Harry said.

“You remember Fleur Delacour?” George said, “She’s got a job at Gringotts to ‘eemprove ‘er Eeenglish—”

“—and Bill’s been giving her a lot of private lessons,” Fred sniggered.

“Charlie’s in the Order too,” George said, “but he’s still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie’s trying to make contacts on his days off.”

 _That’s useful,_ a small voice in the back of Harry’s mind said. He nodded but something felt off, “Why Charlie?” he asked, “Couldn’t Percy do that?”

He knew immediately he said something wrong as the Weasleys and Hermione all exchanged darkly significant looks.

“Whatever you do, don’t mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad,” Ron told harry in a tense voice. “Every time he’s mention, Dad breaks whatever he’s holding and Mum starts crying.”

“It’s been awful,” George said sadly. “He and Dad got in a huge row, I’ve never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It’s normally Mum who shouts… happened the first week after term ended… We were about to come here when Percy came in to say that he’s been promoted. He was promoted to be Fudge’s assistant, well Junior Assistant to the Minister. He thought Dad would be impressed… only he wasn’t.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“Well, Fudge’s been storming around the Ministry checking that nobody’s having any contact with Dumbledore,” George said. “Anyone who does get fired. Dad thought that Percy only got promoted because Fudge wanted him to spy on us and Dumbledore, Percy did not like that and he went completely berserk. He said a load of things, terrible stuff, he said he’s been having to struggle against Dad’s lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad’s got no ambition and that’s why we’ve always been—you know—not had a lot of money, I mean—”

“What!” Harry said in disbelief, “That’s horrible!”

“I know,” Ron said in a low voice. “And it got worse, he said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he—Percy—knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to make themselves traitors to the Ministry, then he was going to make sure that everybody knew he didn’t belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags the same night and left.”

“Mum tried to visit him, talk with him, but he just slammed the front door in front of her,” Fred said.

Harry felt something dark inside of him, an anger at the thought that someone could be so cruel, so mean to the only mother figure he had ever known. He moved his neck in a quick circle to try and calm down, as if trying to crack it, and looked at the Weasleys. “But he must know that Voldemort is back, he’s not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn’t risk everything without proof—”

“Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row,” Ron said. “Percy said the only evidence was your word and, I dunno, he didn’t think it was good enough.”

“It doesn’t help that the _Prophet’s_ been dragging you through the mud,” George said, “Didn’t you read?”

“Not fully… I just look at the main headings for any news on Voldemort,” Harry said.

“Well, if you’ve read it fully, you would have known,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I’m not talking about big articles. They just slip you in, like you’re a standing joke. It’s quite nasty actually.”

Harry frowned. “Draco didn’t tell me any of this,” he muttered.

“Guess the git wanted to spare you that,” Ron said, crossing his arms.

“They’re building off of what Rita Skeeter wrote,” Hermione said, “saying that you’re a delusional attention-seeking person who thinks he’s a great tragic hero or something.”

“But I’m not—”

“We know you’re not Harry, it’s just what’s been going on,” Hermione said. She was about to say more, but they heard footsteps. George gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug, and both he and Fred vanished. Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway.

“The meeting is over, you can come down and have dinner now, everyone’s dying to see you, Harry,” she said.

“Okay,” he nodded, he looked at Ron and Hermione, “I’ll uh join you in a second,” he said, and indicated towards his letter. Ron and Hermione looked a little displeased but left with Mrs. Weasley while Harry went to sit down by the desk. Alone, Harry gave a long sigh and slouched slightly in his chair. “You can come out boys,” he said.

His eyes darted to the corner where he saw pairs of red eyes. “Let’s hope Moody can’t see you,” he muttered. “You have my lord’s response?”

A figure walked out, silhouette, looking more a sheet over an object than a being. A long hand reached out from the figure, holding a single letter. Harry took it and read.

_Boy,_

_Control your temper. Only idiots lose it. As for the Order of the Phoenix, they are a foe, worthy of respect and fear as a collective. Keep your ties to me hidden, no one must know that you and I are allied. Do not tell me of it’s location, I have no need at the moment, I am still gathering my strength, my forces are too sparse and spread to attack. It does not matter if you are at the Dursleys or in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, our situation will continue as normal. At ten the shadow walkers will appear, and you will come for your lessons. Meanwhile, learn what you can about the Order and their movements. Tell me all you have learned tomorrow, including members. I do not care how you make your absence excusable; I know that you will find a way._

Harry sighed and crumbled the letter, lighting it with his wand and dropped the smoldering waste in a nearby waste bun. He had to find a way to excuse himself from Headquarters for multiple hours of the day. He knew that people would keep a close eye on him, it would be almost impossible to do it himself. He looked around his room and stopped as he thought about his trunk. He found it in the hallway, and pulled it in quickly, closing the door behind him. His stomach rolled, and he felt violently ill as he opened the trunk and rooted through socks and underwear, until he found the small vial that he was looking for. “I am so sorry,” he breathed to himself as he uncorked the bottle with one hand. He pulled out a few strands of his hair and dropped it into the potion, putting the stopper back in before tucking the vial into his pocket and walked out of the door.

And heard an ear-splitting, bloodcurdling screech. He ran down the stairway to see the moth-eaten velvet curtains that Harry once thought hid a door was instead a portrait of an old woman in a black cap who was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured.

“FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS! HALF-BREEDS, MUTANTS, FREAKS, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS—”

A man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry. “Shut up, you horrible old hag! Shut up!” he roared, seizing the curtains and, with difficulty, closed them again. Panting slightly, and sweeping his long dark hair of his eyes, Harry’s godfather, Sirius, turned to face him. “Hello Harry,” he said grimly, “I see you’ve met my mother.”

“Your what?” Harry asked before he was pulled into a hug.

“My mother,” Sirius said. “We’ve been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let’s go downstairs before she decides to wake up again,” and he led Harry.

“What is a portrait of your mother doing here?” Harry asked.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? This was my parents’ house, my house now as I am the last Black,” Sirius said. “I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters—about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.”

Harry frowned at that as they moved through a door, and into a cavernous room that was the kitchen. He slipped from Sirius’ arm, “I’m going to help Mrs. Weasley with the drinks,” he said quickly.

“No need Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, but he was already there. Taking the vial out of his pocket, he turned to a row of old looking glasses. He split the potion between two cups and filled them with pumpkin juice nearby and carried them to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, giving them the drinks before turning back and started serving the others, shaking hands with Mr. Weasley when he noticed the man. It was the Weasleys, including Bill, for dinner, along with Tonks, Lupin, Sirius (obviously) and a man named Mundungus, who looked more like a pile of old rags than a person. After serving the drinks, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, closer to Sirius, and did his best to forget about the Obedience Potion he poured into Ron and Hermione’s drinks. _Thank god Moody isn’t here,_ he thought to himself as he watched the two drink and eat. Harry kept his focus on Sirius, talking with him as he kept his mind far from Voldemort and the potion. When dinner was over, Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, they looked normal, as though they’ve just drank regular pumpkin juice. “Ron, Hermione, can you come with me for a sec?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

The three walked out. Harry led them back to his room and turned, “Right uhh, have to make this it worked,” Harry said nervously. “Ron… tell me your deepest secret,” he commanded.

Ron had a screwed up face for a moment before saying, “I have a crush on you Harry.”

“I—okay—” Harry blushed.

Hermione looked at Ron, shocked.

“So I um— _ahem_ —I think the potion is working,” he muttered. “Look Ron, Hermione, what I’m about to say is going to stay between us, is that understood? Nobody will find out, they can’t. There will be times where I’m going to be unavailable, I’ll won’t be in here, no matter how long you look. I’ll be gone from ten to four mostly and I need you two to cover for me, say I’m cleaning elsewhere, distract people, do whatever you need to do, understood?” Both his friends nodded.

“Good,” Harry sighed, “and um…” He walked up and pressed his lips against Ron’s cheek, “Forget that you told us your secret,” he said, “it’s still safe. Hermione, forget that Ron has a crush on me, and you two will not mention or think about this conversation, covering for me will just be natural.”

“Got it Harry,” Ron said, a small smile on his lips.

“Alright,” Hermione said.

“Good,” Harry sighed. He looked between the two of them. “Well it’s late so uhh, good night guys.”

“Night Harry,” Ron said. He looked around, a little dazed, “Uhh… when were we in your room?” he asked.

“A few seconds ago,” Harry said.

“You wanted us right? What is it?” Hermione asked. Harry looked between the two of them for a moment, as though he was thinking.

“I forgot,” he said through a yawn, “sorry.”

“No problem Harry,” Ron shrugged. He gave a yawn and said goodnight to Hermione, who walked out as Ron and Harry shared the bedroom. Ron crossed the room and bolted the door.

“What’s that for?” Harry asked.

“Kreacher,” Ron said as he turned off the light. “First night I was here he came wandering in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don’t want to wake up and find him prowling around your room. Anyway…” He got into his pajamas, taking a little longer than usual, and got into bed, settled under the covers, then turned to look at Harry in the darkness. Harry could see his outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window. Behind him, out of Ron’s point of view, many red eyes stared.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” Harry sighed, “we can figure out what’s going on with those meetings later I’m guessing, I thought we could get a hint tonight but no luck, I’ll try asking Sirius tomorrow.”

“Good idea… good night Harry,” Ron said.

“Good night Ron,” Harry said. He closed his eyes and dreamed of Ron and Draco, fighting for his obedience and love.


	12. Apprentice

Ch. 12

Apprentice

The next day, at exactly ten, Harry made sure that he was alone when the Shadow-walkers appear. He followed them, and walked into the basement of Malfoy Manor, where his Lord was waiting. “I hope that you have established a cover,” was all his Lord said.

“I did,” Harry nodded. He thought for a moment before coming clean. “The Obedience Potion you have given me, I did not use it on my relatives, I’ve used it on my two best friends. They are to cover me when I am here.”

Harry expected his Lord to be mad, instead a smirk appeared on his face. “To think,” the Dark Lord said slowly, “that you are hesitant to use the potion on relatives that you despise… yet you use it on your friends all to eagerly out of desperation.” Harry hung his head. “Potter… I am beginning to believe that I have made the right decision selecting you as my apprentice. Now come, it is past time we begin.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The topic of the Obedience Potion and Harry’s current dwellings were pushed to the side as Harry’s lessons began. Any worry or unease he had with his situation melted away as his focus turned to his lessons, and his Master began his lectures. It was Harry’s decision, when the time came, to power through lunch, and before it was three, the two were done for the day. “My lord, about the Order—”

“Speak little of it Harry,” Voldemort said. “I still do not know what to do with that situation. For now, however, I am planning on giving Dumbledore a distraction as I continue my research into what he is looking for in the Ministry of Magic.”

“A distraction, sir?” Harry asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that tonight information about you will be leaked to Dumbledore, I will let it known to my followers that I have taken an apprentice, and that his training is nearly complete,” Voldemort said. “Because, young Harry, it is.”

Harry did not know how to feel. He looked at his inner forearm at his mark. Before, it was just a black dot, but now a form was starting to come out, a thick black snake that started to wrap around his arm, it’s tail connected to a skill’s mouth as the snake wrapped towards it, resting on it’s head. “It is not complete, however you are still marked as mine,” Voldemort said, looking down at it. “My apprentice’s mark… held by you, just as it was held by Alphard Black.”

“What… what will you tell them?” Harry asked, staring at his mark. He completely forgot about it at times, so used to wearing long-sleeved clothing.

“That during the summer, I have been tutoring a boy in secret. This boy is a Hogwarts student, and a follower whom I trust over some of my loyal followers. He has shown potential, great potential, and so I have decided to name him my apprentice. However, that does not give you command over my followers, Potter, remember that,” the Dark Lord said. “You are expected to obey my inner circle, and most of all me.”

“Yes, my lord,” Harry said obediently.

“Good.”

“My lord… if I can ask, who is in your inner circle?” Harry asked.

Voldemort stared at him for a long moment. “Does it matter?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry said. “I just want to know if Snape is in it.”

“He has my mark,” Voldemort said. “Those who have my mark are my Inner Circle… the others just wear the garb.”

“I see,” Harry said. He did not know how to feel, disappointed, maybe, but of what? Because he had to follow Snape’s orders, not only at Hogwarts, but with his lord as well? He took the thought out of his head and looked at his Lord. “That is all I wanted to know, my Lord,” he said.

“Then you should leave before Dumbledore gets curious,” the Dark Lord said. Harry nodded and left with the Shadow-walkers.

The Dark Lord watched his apprentice leave before turning on his heels and walked out of the basement. He headed for a dark room in the Malfoy manor, a room that, once he came, he forbade the Malfoys to ever enter unless summoned. It was a large room with a long dark table that had a silver chandelier hanging over it. It blazed to life with a flick of the Dark Lord’s wand, and he moved to sit in the front seat, all the way at the end of the long table. Nagini slithered afterwards. The dark wizard relaxed in the chair, leaning back, as he thought for a moment on what he would say. Silence filled the room as he did so.

With his mind made up, he summoned his followers. Malfoy was first to arrive, as expected. He walked in through the doors, and took an empty seat, waiting quietly as one by one others began to appear, apparating into the room. Voldemort watched with interest, mostly because Harry point it out, as Snape appeared, nodding stiffly at him before sitting down, his eyes and hooked nose reminding the Dark Lord of an eagle looking for prey.

With everyone seated, Voldemort looked at each one slowly, allowing the tension in the room to slowly rise. He enjoyed how much they feared him. When he spoke, he spoke with an unemotional voice that demanded no resistance, not arguing, and total attention. “I have called you, to inform you all of an important development,” he began. “While our allies are gathering our forces, I have been working on my own private experiment. One, I am glad to report, that has resulted fruitfully.

“I have decided upon myself to have an apprentice, a child who is merely a teen, and yet has shown potential, much more potential than some of my very own followers who sit now in this room.” He let the statement sink in, enjoying the looks of shock, embarrassment, and plain self-disappointment sink in as eyes shift from one to another. Voldemort waited, wondering idly who will be the first to speak out? Who will be the first to challenge his decision.

It was Snape.

“My lord,” he said hesitantly. “Are you sure that it is… wise to recruit a child so young? Would it not be a danger?”

“No, Severus, it would not,” Voldemort said shortly. “My apprentice is a particularly special boy, one who has shown great adept at the Dark Arts, even in such a short time that I have taught him. If you are worrying about risks, Severus, then you are to do well to worry about your fellow Death Eaters before this boy.” More uncertain looks spread around the room. The only one who did not looked uneasy nor worried was Malfoy, which Voldemort expected. He pointed to towards him as an example. “I must wonder… how is it that Malfoy is the only one of my loyal followers to respect my decisions? Why is it Lucius Malfoy, who so easily threw me away to save his family, now is the only one among this table not showing worry and disloyalty?”

Faces turned towards Lucius, who stayed calm.

“No answer… very well,” the Dark Lord said. “I will remember this. Now, tell me about our allies, how are the giants in the mountains…”

 

“Harry, there you are,” Sirius smiled as Harry walked into the hallway. “Molly must have made you work doubly hard to skip lunch like this, come along there is something I want to show you.”

He led Harry into a long room where an old tapestry was hung on the wall. “We tried taking it off, figures the old bat placed a Permanent Sticking Charm on it too,” Sirius said. “Kreacher tries at every turn to keep us from throwing the bloody thing out, even when I tried giving it a knife it wouldn’t budge.”

The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though doxies had gnawed it in places; nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

**The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black  
“Toujours Pur”**

“You’re not on here!” Harry said, after scanning the bottom of the tree.

“I used to be there,” Sirius said, pointing at a small, round charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. “My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home—Kreacher’s quite fond of muttering the story under his breath.”

“You ran away?”

“When I was about sixteen,” Sirius said. “I’d had enough.”

“Where did you go?” Harry asked, staring at him.

“Your dad’s place,” Sirius said. “Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad’s during the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold—he’s been wiped off here, too, that’s possibly why—anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s for Sunday lunch, though.”

Harry’s mind went off at the name Alphard, he wanted to ask more, but knew better not to. Instead, he would ask his Lord at the earliest convenient. “Why did you leave?” he instead asked.

“Because I hated them,” Sirius said bitterly, “my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal … my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them… that’s him.” Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name Regulus Black. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

“He was younger than me,” Sirius said, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”

“But he died,” Harry said.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Stupid idiot … he joined the Death Eaters.”

“You’re kidding,” Harry said, doing his best to keep from getting pale. A cold sweat began at the back of his neck that he quickly wiped away. Eyes darting, he moved from the tapestry to Sirius. Was he on that path? Would he be someone that Sirius’s mother be proud of… or someone that Sirius would call his own? Harry desperately hoped for the latter.

“Come on, Harry, haven’t you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?” Sirius said testily.

“Were… were your parents Death Eaters?”

“No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things. … They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.”

Harry did not want Sirius’s parents to be proud of him. He was growing colder, clammy. He was surprised at his voice, still calm and collective like nothing was wrong. “How did he die? Did an Auror kill him?” he asked.

“Oh no,” Sirius said. “No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got too far in then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”

 _Service or death…_ Those words stuck to Harry. He felt icy cold, deathly almost. His eyes felt heavy, dulled, as he half-listened to Sirius looking around the tapestry. Alphard Black… Regulus Black… Alphard was Voldemort’s apprentice and Regulus his Death Eater, both dead. Could they both have been killed by Voldemort? Is that what waited for Harry? Will his lord kill him once his usefulness was up?

Harry needed answers, but knew that he would never get them from the source. He saw, with some interest, that Sirius was related to Tonks… whose name was not on there, but her mother’s was, her portrait burned just like Sirius’s. And next to Tonk’s mother, connected to the name Narcissa, was Lucius Malfoy, and a golden thread that led to Draco. “You’re related to Malfoy!” he said.

“All of us purebloods are interrelated,” Sirius explained. “There are only so many choices if your son or daughter are allowed to marry fellow purebloods.” Harry nodded slowly, his mind distracted for a moment before resting again on Voldemort and his murder of Regulus Black.

 _I will not be like him,_ Harry thought to himself. _I must not be like him…_

Harry found that he could not dwell on such thoughts, for as the rest of his summer became desperately busy between cleaning Grimmauld Place and learning from his Lord. Harry kept his knowledge of Regulus to himself, too scared to ask, and the Dark Lord never once sent him on a mission, as Harry hoped, instead keeping him in the Malfoy dungeon where he continued his dangerous, terrifying road of the Dark Arts. Harry and Draco agreed that it would be best to stick to letters, and Draco promised to save his commands for their first day at Hogwarts, reminding Harry that “you still owe me Potter, I am owe my boyfriend’s submission.” August died slowly, September getting ready to rise from it’s corpse, and with it, letters full of Harry and his friends’ Hogwarts letters and shopping lists, and two special badges that would change the triad.


	13. Ride

Ch. 13

Ride

Hogwarts was almost upon them. On the last day of holidays, Harry was in his room sweeping up Hedwig’s droppings when Ron entered their bedroom, carrying a couple of envelopes. “Booklists have arrived,” he said, throwing one of the envelopes to Harry. “About time, I thought they’d forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this…”

Harry swept the last of the droppings into the garbage bag and tossed it into the wastebasket in the corner before opening his letter. There were the usually papers in the letters, one reminder that terms start on September first, and the second being a list of books required. “Only two new ones,” Harry read. “ _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_ and _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard.”

_Crack._

Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn’t even flinch. “We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book,” Fred said conversationally.

“Because it means Dumbledore’s found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” George said.

“About time too, we heard Mum and Dad talking a few weeks back with the Extendable Ear,” Fred said, “apparently Dumbledore’s been having a real tough time finding anyone to take the job this year.”

“No surprise there,” George said.

Harry turned slightly and caught Ron out of the corner of his eye, standing slack-jawed. “Ron? You okay?” he asked. Ron did not answer. He just gapped at his Hogwarts letter.

“What’s the matter?” Fred said impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment. Fred’s mouth fell open too.

“Prefect?” he said, staring incredulously at the letter. “Prefect!”

George leapt forward, seized the letter, and turned it upside down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George’s palm.

“No way,” George said in a hushed voice.

“There’s got to be a mistake,” Fred said, snatching the letter out of Ron’s grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for watermarks. “No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect.”

The twins turned in unison and both stared at Harry. “We thought you were a cert!” Fred said in a tone that Harry had tricked them in some way.

“Oh, Mum’s going to be revolting,” George groaned, throwing the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.

Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, and then held it out to Harry, as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy’s chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

“Did you—did you get it—?”

She spotted the badge in Harry’s hand and let out a shriek.

“I knew it!” she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. “Me too, Harry, me too!”

“Not me,” Harry said quickly, pushing the badge back in Ron’s hand. “It’s Ron, not me.”

“What?”

“Ron’s prefect, not me,” Harry said.

“Ron!?” Hermione said, her jaw dropping. “But… are you sure? I mean—” she turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defient expression on his face.

“It’s my name on the letter,” he said.

“I—I well…. Wow!” Hermione said. “Well done, Ron! That’s really—”

“Unexpected,” George said nodding.

“No!” Hermione said, blushing harder than ever, “no, it’s not… Ron’s done loads of… he’s really…”

“Look,” Harry intervened, “it’s great that Ron became prefect, so why don’t you two just sod off? You’re only making Hermione fluster.” He gave a glare to Fred and George, who both rolled their eyes.

“Looks like our days of law breaking are over Fred,” George said, “can’t do that with these two on our tails.” Laughing, the two Disapparated.

Harry turned to Ron and smiled, “Congratulations mate,” he said genuinely, “congratulations.”

“Yeah… yeah,” Ron said, with growing confidence. “Thanks Harry—I think I’ll go tell Mum, who knows she might be so happy she’ll get me a new broom!” And smiling, Ron ran off.

“Harry, do you mind if I borrow Hedwig?” Hermione asked, getting control of her blushing. “Prefect is something that they’ll understand.”

“Sure,” Harry shrugged. He crossed to his trunk and began packing, his back to Hermione. For a second, something in his mind told him to be jealous, that it was ridiculous that Ron was picked as Prefect instead of Harry. _Bullocks,_ Harry replied to that small part of his mind. _Ron’s deserve it._ As he packed his trunk, he caught two small beady red eyes on the bottom of it, hiding in shadows made from Harry’s robes and books. Harry automatically reached for it, and touched paper. He glanced over his shoulder and pulled out the very short letter from his Lord. It read simply:

_You are given a week’s break before I decide how to continue._

Harry sighed and crumpled the paper up, he’ll burn it when he’s alone.

“You alright?” Hermione asked, looking back at him.

“Hmm? Yeah,” Harry said, “just looking for an extra quill,” he lied quickly, “Knowing Draco, he’s made Prefect too. I’m guessing a letter from him gloating is on it’s way.”

“Are you alright? With not becoming Prefect?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, I am, why?”

“It’s just… I always thought Dumbledore would pick you,” Hermione said. “With everything you’ve done for the school and all…”

“Everything we’ve done,” Harry said. He hesitated for a moment, “I mean, if I’m honest I am a little hurt, everything we’ve been through was because of me in a way, I was in the center of it, or the one who ultimately solved it, but god knows that I wouldn’t even be close to doing that without you and Ron. You two deserve the badge just as much as me… I’m just the face for our troubles.”

Hermione gave a small laugh and Harry felt at ease. Ron came back with a huge grin, “I told my mum and she agreed to get me a broom!” he said, “A new Cleansweep—it’s not as expensive as a Nimbus so…” his eyes went red a little, and Harry quickly sprung up before Ron’s insecurities could come out.

“Hey mate, that’s great,” he smiled. “And congratulations again, really.”

“I never thought it would be me!” Ron said, shaking his head, his ears still red. “I thought it would be you!”

“Nah, I’ve caused too much trouble,” Harry said.

“Yeah,” Ron said, “yeah, I suppose. …Well, we’d better get our trunks packed, hadn’t we?”

It was odd how their possessions seemed to have scattered themselves since they had arrived. It took them most of the afternoon to retrieve their books and belongings from all over the house and stow them back inside their school trunks. Harry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefect’s badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and laying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and locked it in his trunk. Mrs. Weasley went to Diagon Alley in the meanwhile, and returned at six with their books and a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took with a moan of longing.

That night Harry felt odd. Like he was split in two. He was surrounded by his friends and family, members of the Order of the Phoenix. Moody was there, as well as Tonks and Lupin, Sirius and Mundungus, and yet every now and again, through his relief to learn that his father and Sirius were never prefects, he could feel his upper arm throb, his mark expand, sinking deeper into him as the skull and snake develop slowly, ever so slowly, yet surely. Member of Light and Dark both, Harry wished that he could still have a choice to make, that he could be with Draco and Sirius both, that he can be friends with Theo and Ron and Hermione. Yet, he knew, deep down, that it would never come to that. That sooner or later, his Lord would give him an unspeakable order, a command to do outrageous travesty, and Harry would have to do it. Who was he kidding? He did it already with that Ministry worker.

He did his best, however Harry felt like his smiles were fake, his laughs were hollow. Even when Moody gave Harry a picture of the original Order members, seeing his parents only made Harry feel sick to his stomach. Excusing himself, Harry rushed to the nearest toilet and emptied out his stomach.

“God…” he sighed, holding up the picture and staring at his parents. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry… I don’t know what to do.” His father and mother just beamed up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man Harry recognized as Wormtail. “At least… at least I got him,” Harry sniffled.

There was a knock on the door, “Harry? Are you alright?” It was Sirius.

“Harry quickly flushed and wiped his eyes, “Y-Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he cleared his throat and stood up. “I uhh just ate too much.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah Sirius, I’m fine,” Harry said. “Just uh give me a minute here, wash the taste out.”

“If that’s it then…” Sirius sounded like he wanted to add something, however he couldn’t find the words. “Uhh… there’s a boggart that Mrs. Weasley is taking care of… I’ll just be checking in on that.”

Harry nodded, and just leaned against the sink. Even as he heard screaming from above, it was Mrs. Weasley, Harry didn’t find it in him to run out and check. He just stood there against the sink breathing, focusing on his breath and yet miles away. He still felt awful when he went to bed that night, wishing, deeply, that he would never wake up.

 

“Potter, with me.”

Harry was at Platform Nine and three quarters, with everyone else. His last morning at the headquarters for the Order felt rushed, surreal. He had many things he wanted to say to Sirius and yet, he couldn’t find the words. Now, after many goodbyes, he was in the train’s corridor and Theodore Nott stood in front of him and his friends.

“Huh?”

“Malfoy says he wants to sit with you,” Nott said. “Come on. You can join your lion friends later.” And without waiting, he turned and began walking. Harry turned bashfully towards Ron and Hermione. “Sorr—”

“Don’t apologize,” Hermione said, “We have to actually go down into the prefect carriage,” she said a little awkwardly.

“Oh.”

“I don’t think we’re there the whole journey!” Hermione said quickly. “Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time.”

“I’ll find a carriage and save you three seats,” Ginny said. “Harry, when were you going to tell me you’re dating Malfoy?” she demanded, looking only a little annoyed.

“Um…”

“Come along Potter!” Nott yelled out.

“Later,” Harry said, and he ran off to follow Theo. Once he caught up with him, he said, “You seriously had to do that?”

“Draco told me to,” Theo shrugged, “besides, it would be awkward if we were already on first name basis, wouldn’t it?”

“Just shut up,” Harry groaned. “I was going to find Draco, seriously, but now I just want to sit for a bit.”

“Bad summer?” Theo smirked.

“Awkward more like…” Harry said. Theo just nodded and led him to an empty compartment.

“There will be other Slytherins here,” he warned, “but they don’t know about you and Draco dating.”

“Oh joy… and let me guess, he’s at the prefect’s carriage, isn’t he?” Harry drawled.

“Of course, I’m surprised you’re not.”

“Please don’t get started with that,” Harry moaned. “I feel split Theo, honestly.”

“Between?”

“All of this… Draco and my friends, the Dark Arts and the Light… Voldemort and the Order,” Harry said. Theo jumped at Voldemort’s name. “You too?” he sighed.

“Right well, I’m not exactly the best person to talk to about all this stuff,” Theodore said. “I mean, it’s fine to think about it, talk about theoretically, but to actually go through it. If you do, you are giving up your muggle half, you know. I’ve been looking into it myself, just in case Draco forgets.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s just as you’ve read Harry,” Theo said. “You give up your muggle self and, socially, you can marry Draco, even under the Submissive Clause. However,” he took a small break, as though to think it through logically, “I cannot see the connection with our war and the clauses.”

“Old views,” Harry said, “views that for some godforsaken reason I like erotically… backwards thinking to some people, I know, but… I can’t explain it.”

“Fair enough,” Theo sighed, he looked out the window and back at Harry, “Well, you better relax while you can.”

“Why?”

“Because I see my friends coming aboard, and I’ll not be the one explaining why you’re here,” Theo said, with a sadistic smirk on his face. Harry shook his head, and sat up, doing his best to feel as though he belonged in the compartment. The train started moving, and a few moments later the compartment door slid open, Crabbe and Goyle, looking as thick and dumb as ever, stood there. “Move,” one of them grunted.

“Just shut up,” Theo sighed. “Either you sit with my friend or get out.”

“Why is he here?” the other asked.

“Because Draco wanted him here, as do I,” Theo said.

“I thought that you weren’t going to—”

“Better than you just staring there like a useless fish,” Theodore said. “Are you truly useless unless giving an order Harry?”

“Not now,” Harry groaned, “I still feel weird.”

“Out,” the first one, Harry think it was Crabbe, repeated.

Harry looked at him and stayed in his seat. “No, I think I won’t,” he said. Furious and purple-faced, the two brutes left just as a black student walked in, “I just saw Crabbe and Goyle walk off like angry trolls,” he laughed, seeing only Theo, “what did you do Nott?”

“Not me, Harry,” Theo shrugged, pointing to Harry. “Now either get in and shut up or walk away angrily like those two. I’m sure there’s still a compartment left, but it’ll smell bad with them.”

The boy’s eyes moved from Theo to Harry and immediately tightened. “Potter,” he said in a nasty tone.

“God will you lay off it,” Theo said, rolling his eyes, “he was just about to tell me how he feels weird and bad when the ogres interrupted. Now stop staring at Draco’s boyfriend and get in.”

The boy’s eyes widened and immediately walked in. “I didn’t know Potter was Draco’s boyfriend.”

“Interesting summer, Zabini,” Theo said. “Right—Harry, this is Blaise Zabini, Zabini, Harry.” They just nodded in acknowledgement as Zabini sat away from Harry, on Theo’s side of the compartment. “So Harry, you were saying?”

Harry eyed Zabini suspiciously. “I just don’t know how to feel is all,” he said cautiously. “I feel like one moment I’m pulled one way, the next I’m pulled another, sooner or later I feel like I’ll have to choose, or just split apart.”

“Well, as much as I’m sure Draco would love to split you apart, I’m sure this is a different kind of split,” Theo said, earning a snicker from Zabini. “But I think this should be something you and Draco should really talk about. Especially if you want to go through with the Submissive Clause.”

“Wait… Potter wants to go through that?” Zabini asked, looking at Harry with a new light.

“And everything that it entails, yes,” Theo nodded. Harry went red. “Golden Boy Harry here holds many secrets Blaise, and if you’re a good boy, you might be able to learn them.”

“Well… I admit I’m very interested now,” Zabini chuckled.

Harry sent him a glare.

“But before all that, I think we should all just relax,” Theodore said, “for I’m sure that the girls will be here any second, and they will want words with Harry. Especially Pansy.”

“Ohh!” Blaise laughed, he smiled wickedly at Harry, “Oh just wait till that Potter! I’m glad I decided to stay here,” he said, turning to Theo, “this is going to be so much fun.”

Harry felt his stomach churn, and he wished, more than anything, that Draco was here, and he followed Ginny instead. But as the doors opened, and Harry saw the Slytherin girls begin to walk in, Harry sat up tall. “Greengrass, Parkinson,” he said, “I’m sitting here waiting for Draco, and if you don’t like it, sod off.”

Parkinson gave Harry a glare but rushed off while Greengrass sat down hesitantly. “Excuse me?” she said.

“I’m Draco’s boyfriend and I’m sitting here,” Harry said.

“Oh… well uhh… is this temporary?” she asked.

“No,” Harry said, “Draco and I are thinking about the Submissive Clause.”

“Oh… okay,” Greengrass said awkwardly. She looked towards Theodore and Zabini, “What does this mean for my sister?”

“If Potter goes through with it, the contract is off,” Theo said. “Meaning no marriage.”

“Thank god,” Greengrass said, looking relieved. “Honestly Potter you’re an angel in disguise for doing this.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, shocked.

“Well, Parkinson fancies Draco, and I thought she was going to try and tear my sister apart to get him! But now instead she gets to tear you apart instead, or you tear her apart, either way, happy ending for my sister,” Greengrass smiled.

“Okay Greengrass—”

“Daphne, that’s my name.”

“Okay Daphne… I was honestly not expecting this,” Harry said.

She shrugged, “Honestly anyone insane enough to go after Draco is not worth bothering,” she said, “especially if it means it’ll get Pansy shut up about it. But I didn’t know that you and Draco were a thing.”

“They got together during the summer,” Theo said, “right in front of my eyes. It was a thing of beauty really,” he smirked. “of course, I think that Harry would look better kneeling in front of me, but that’s neither here or there.”

“As if you’ll get anyone to kneel,” Zabini muttered, “we both know you’ll be the one on your knees.” Harry stared at the two, this was too much change of mood and emotion for this, he felt as though he was on a roller coaster of teenage emotion.

Daphne moved closer to Harry and smiled, “So, tell me about it, how did you and Draco start dating?”

He felt like he was caught, and without a filter, Harry just started talking about everything that happened that summer, unconsciously giving out every single detail as the train rolled along, Daphne listening intensely, nodding here and there, while Theo and Blaise soon grew silent, listening in. By the time Harry was done, his voice felt a little hoarse, and his cheeks deeply red. There was a moment of silence before Daphne broke it, “Can I see it?” she asked. “Your mark.”

Harry looked hesitant but began to roll up his sleeve, showing his inner forearm where his growing mark laid. “It keeps growing…” he said, “I don’t know what it will be when it’s finished but… I don’t think I can hide it soon. I’m Voldemort’s apprentice. Sooner or later, everyone will know.”


	14. Identity

Ch. 14

Identity

Draco entered the compartment, followed by a smug looking Pansy Parkinson. “Harry, you’re here,” Draco smiled and immediately moved to sit down next to his boyfriend, taking his head softly and bringing him in for a kiss. “I hope the others weren’t rude.”

“They were as expected,” Harry shrugged. He gave a smile and kissed Draco again, “I missed you,” he mewled.

“Why is Potter here?”

Pansy’s voice acted like a rusted saw that forced itself into the relaxed mood the two were building, splintering it open and leaving an awkward feeling around as Pansy’s eyes focused on Harry, beady and small like. Harry turned to return her stare, his eyes turning quickly cold and icy. “Because,” he said simply.

“Get out you half-blood!” Parkinson demanded.

“Pansy,” Theo tried to say, “I’m sure that wasn’t necessary—”

“What is going on then?” she demanded. “Why is Potter here? What are you all hiding from me?”

“Hiding? Pansy Parkinson, we are not hiding anything,” Harry said, giving her a sly smile. “Draco and I are dating, and, god willing, we will marry with the submissive clause once we’re both of age. We started dating just as this train was heading away from Hogwarts.”

Pansy sneered. She moved further into the compartment and sat down right across of Harry, pushing Theo and Zabini aside. “Oh?” she said in a high voice as she held her nose up, resembling a pug. “And you’re going to _marry_?”

“Yes,” Draco answered. “I want Harry as my husband.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“We don’t have to defend ourselves or explain ourselves to you,” Draco said, dismissing her. “We will marry with the submissive clause and that is that.” He relaxed in his seat as did Harry.

“That’s impossible!” Pansy demanded. “You—you can’t be gay!”

“I’m not gay,” Draco drawled.

“Then what’s going on here?” Pansy demanded. “Why do you have a boyfriend if you’re not gay!”

Draco frowned, as did the others in the compartment. It was Daphne, surprisingly, who spoke, looking at Pansy with some concern. “Did you forget?” she asked.

“Forget what?”

“Draco told us… after the Yule Ball,” Daphne said, glancing at Draco, who gave a short nod. “Pansy… Draco’s bisexual.”

Harry wanted to laugh. Pansy’s eyes bulged comedically as she looked at Draco. However, the shock quickly turned to a hatred, a biased hatred that filled her to the very core. However, Harry could feel that that hatred was different from his, not powerful enough to fuel the Dark Arts yet still as destructive. “That’s disgusting,” she said. “I won’t believe it.”

Nervous glances were traded around the compartment. Daphne cleared her throat and bit her upper lip as she looked at both Draco and Theo. Harry, too, glanced at Theo and saw that the raven-haired Slytherin seemed to sulk away from Parkinson, looking out the window as if to shrink or fade away. Harry felt awful. He looked at Parkinson and stood up. She smiled. “Going away sissy?” she mocked.

“No, you are,” Harry said. The shuttered on the door and windows closed, the lights in the compartment flickered till the candles all burned out. Outside the compartment, it was still sunny, light still existed, and yet darkness refused any light to penetrate that small space. Harry never felt such anger before, he had never encountered such hatred. The others gave out screams and shouts of fear, but Harry did not hear or care as their screams did not escape the compartment. It was taking all of his energy, maybe too much, but his anger did not care, his hatred kept him conscious as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and thousands upon thousands of red eyes blinked into existence, only for him to see, and only for him to hear. It strained Harry to open his mouth, and when he talked, it was with the language of snakes. _“Listen to me, Shadow-walkers, take the form of snakes, many and strong. Coil around this girl and carry her away—not to harm but away. Let her join the other Slytherins, wherever they are, but keep her from entering this compartment ever again!”_

The eyes blinked. Those who were already snakes seemed to understand and nodded. They turned to the others, and for the first time Harry heard whispered from the darkness. An old and dead language that he did not recognize. They changed slowly in front of Harry, their forms turning massless for a moment before shrinking, elongating, as their whispers turned to hissing and started moving towards Pansy.

“W-Was that you Harry?” Theodore panicked. “Was that you hissing?”

“Something touched my leg!” Daphne shrieked and there was knocking sound, as someone fell.

“Daphne? Draco—the hell is going on?”

“Harry!”

The snakes moved slowly, almost gleefully, up Pansy’s body. Harry watched as several coiled around her legs and hips, others moving on top of those to get further up her body, wrapping her waist and up her torso, squeezing her into herself as she screamed and tried to bash around haphazardly. The shadow-walkers that wrapped around her arms began pulling towards each other. Her screams became muffled as a particularly thick shadow wrapped around her head, cradling her neck to keep from harm, but still silencing her. Then she began to shrink, as though pulled slowly into a small tube, into the darkness. Moving further and further away, her form compacted and her muffled shirked slowly became further and further away until silence roamed over the compartment, and there were eyes no more.

Harry’s head felt heavy, a strong pressure pulsed in his brain, and all at once light snapped back into existences. The shuttered opened violently, the candles burst into light and Harry fainted, falling slack onto the floor, his head knocking into the cushioned seating. Draco immediately moved to catch him, and looked around. Both he and Zabini were on the floors, holding someone. Draco, Harry and Zabini, Daphne. Theodore was still in his seat, curled into a ball as he looked around wildly.

“What the hell just happened?” Blaise demanded. “Where is Pansy?”

“I don’t know—I don’t know,” Draco said, looking down at Harry. “I think he did something. Daphne, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just lost my footing,” Greengrass nodded. Blaise helped her up and they both looked down at Harry. “How’s he?”

“Sleeping I guess, whatever he did must have taken a lot out of him,” Draco said. “Theo, Blaise, help me.”

Together, the three boys lifted Harry back into his seat, where he slumped, his unconscious body falling onto Draco, who moved to support him. “Draco…” there was a twinge of fear in Daphne’s voice. “What exactly did the Dark Lord teach him?”

“I don’t know,” Draco answered, and he looked down at Harry. “Whatever that was… god help our enemies when he can fully control it.”

The others stared in anticipation and small fear at Harry. They were all silent, not one wanting to speak, all eyes on Harry, only to glance at one another every now and again. Harry slept for ten minutes before waking up, he felt drained, extremely moody, and tired. His eyes were still heavy, and his head still pulsed madly, but that slowly went away as he regained more and more consciousness. “Ouch,” He groaned.

“You’re awake!” Draco said. “Harry, what was that?”

“I don’t know… I never done that before,” Harry said. He looked around, wincing at his head. “He told me… that one day I could control the shadow-walkers, make them do my bidding more than just passing notes.” Harry had a thoughtful expression while the others looked around confused, Theo mouthing ‘shadow-walkers’ questionably. Harry shook his head, “I’ll be alright I think, just tired,” he yawned.

“Where’s Pansy?” Daphne asked, looking at the place she was.

“I sent her to wherever the others are,” Harry said. “She’s alright… just sitting somewhere else.”

“And if she tries to come back?”

“She can’t,” Harry said simply, and left it at that. The others exchanged looks but decided that it would be best to leave the matter alone. Harry simply relaxed after that, leaning on Draco as the blond wrapped an arm around Harry for support and listened to the others talking, giving his voice here and there but otherwise silent.

It was getting dark outside when Harry finally stood up, stretching slightly. “I have to go look for my friends,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Draco demanded.

“I promised them that I would spend half the train ride with you and the second half with them,” Harry explained. “It’s getting dark out so I need to go find them.”

“Well in that case,” Draco stood up and took Harry’s hand. “There is no way I’m letting my submissive out of my sight.”

“Draco—”

“Move,” Draco ordered. He turned to Theo, Blaise, and Daphne and raised a hand in goodbye. Harry frowned but moved out of the compartment.

“You didn’t have to do that you know,” he muttered.

“You’re my submissive boyfriend,” Draco said, “I have to command you every now and again.” He chuckled and pushed Harry against the wall, forcing his lips on Harry. “Understand?” he whispered.

“Yes sir,” Harry whispered against Draco’s lips. The Slytherin smiled and kissed Harry once more. “Come on then boy, let’s go to your friends.” Harry nodded and they walked down the long corridors, looking for the compartment that held Harry’s friends. Halfway down, Harry stopped and pointed to a closet. Draco smirked, “Want me to give you more commands?” he asked.

“No, I just remembered something… can you give me a second?” Harry asked. Draco nodded. Harry moved into the closet and closed the door, waiting for the red eyes to appear. When they did, he said, “I need a couple of you to shrink, and reside in Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass’s throats,” he said. “Just until I can trust them. If either of them try to talk about me, about how I’m learning from the Dark Lord and I am not around them, or anyone who was in the compartment when I told them, including Draco… make them mute.”

The eyes disappeared and Harry left the closet, “Okay,” he sighed, taking Draco’s hand. “Let’s go find Ron and Hermione.”

“What did you do?” Draco asked.

“I uhh needed to ask the Shadow-walkers something,” Harry said. “It doesn’t take energy to talk to them, it’s just like talking with a person in the dark, but actually controlling them like I did back there… it took a lot.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can carry you,” Draco offered.

“I’m fine! I can walk,” Harry said, and to prove it he took a couple stride in front of Draco. “I’m submissive, not helpless Draco,” he smiled.

“Thank god for that,” Draco said. “Come on… let’s get the awkwardness out of the way.”

Harry smiled and walked with Draco. They found his friends at the end of the train, far from where they were sitting. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were joined with Neville Longbottom, a fellow Gryffindor in their year, and a girl that Harry did not know. She was blonde, and was reading a magazine upside down. “Harry, there you are,” Hermione smiled, “we were starting to get worried. Did the Slytherins treat you alright?”

“They did,” Harry shrugged. “Most acted better than I expected.”

“Why is Draco here?” Ron demanded, eyeing the blonde with very clear jealousy.

“Because he’s my boyfriend and wants to be here?” Harry said. “Besides, with Draco and I dating… he has a lot to make up for.”

Ron rolled his eyes, as if that was obvious. Harry ignored this and looked at Ginny and Hermione, who was staring at Draco equally as tensed as Ron was. “I’m not expecting you to forgive him instantly,” Harry said, “but… can you at least hear him apologize? If after that you still don’t want to sit with him, I’ll kick him out.”

Draco looked at Harry, shocked, but the others nodded. Harry gave a smile and looked expectantly at Draco. The blonde’s look of flabbergast quickly faded and he looked at the Gryffindors. “Sorry.”

“You can do better than that,” Harry said, sounding disappointed.

Draco looked annoyed, after a deep breath he stared at the window, not looking at anyone in particular as he said, “I am sorry for being a prat to you all, including calling Granger a mudblood, mocking Weasley for his lack of wealth and Longbottom for being Longbottom. I am sorry for my past behaviors and will work to improve myself.”

Harry and his friends stared at Draco, not fully believing him. Harry sighed and shook his head, “This will be the best Draco can do I guess,” he said. He looked at his friends hopefully, but they still were not convinced. Frowning, Harry turned to Draco, looking disappointed.

The Slytherin shrugged and gave them a final look, “I will see you later than Harry,” he said, “I will save a carriage.” He kissed Harry hard once more, squeezing his ass as he did so, and walked away. Harry stood awkwardly for a moment, watching his boyfriend walk away, before turning back to the compartment and walked in.

“You could have said something,” he said, disappointed.

“It’s not that easy Harry,” Hermione said, “I mean, you have got to have some… doubts with his behavior right? I’m sure that Malfoy means well with you but… I cannot forgive him over night.”

“I know that Hermione,” Harry said, “I’m just asking you to give him a chance.”

“I know that,” Harry said. “I know that you guys can’t forgive him overnight and I’m not expecting you!” He was starting to get annoyed, he felt like he had this conversation with them already. “Look just, he’s my boyfriend, okay? Can you guys at least give him a chance? You guys said you would this summer.”

A silence fell over the compartment as Harry’s friends looked down, Ron muttering to himself while Ginny and Hermione looked around awkwardly. Neville, however, broke the silence as he stuttered out, “Harry… I uh just wanted to say that uh I don’t believe any of that stuff that the _Prophet’s_ been writing about you… and neither does my Gran… she says that anyone who believes Fudge over Dumbledore is err ‘dumber than a pack of ogres.’ …Anyway I uhh just wanted you to know that…” Neville’s cheeks turned red and Harry smiled as his heart lifted slightly.

“Thanks Neville,” Harry said earnestly, “honestly.”

“You’re Harry Potter.”

Everyone’s attention turned to the girl in the corner who was reading a magazine upside down. “Uh yeah, I know I am,” Harry said.

“This is Luna,” Ginny introduced, “Luna Lovegood, she’s in my year, but in Ravenclaw.”

She raised her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Harry looked around with his eyebrows raised, Ginny suppressed a giggle. The train rattled on and Harry looked around anxiously as grey clouds and night overtook the sky. He did not know why he was anxious, he was with his friends, and they were having a normal talk, easily forgetting about the awkwardness that Harry came in with.

The train began to slow down, everyone has changed, and the usual racket up and down it as everyone scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready for departure overtook the train. Ron and Hermione were supposed to supervise all of this; they disappeared from the carriage, leaving Harry and the others to look after Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon.

Harry looked at the three awkwardly. “I uhh… left Hedwig and my stuff with Draco,” he said.

“Go,” Ginny said a little too sharply for either’s liking. She realized it and said in a softer voice, “I’ll tell Ron and Hermione. If you can’t get in the same carriage, we’ll see you at the feast.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded and left quickly, pushing past the rest of the students, struggling against the pushing and shoving when he reached doorways out of the train, until he reached the compartment where he started in. Theo was the only one there, holding onto Hedwig’s cage. “Did you know that Parkinson tried to get in here?” he said as he placed the cage down and helped Harry get his luggage down.

“What happened?”

“It was actually kind of funny—it was like she was banging against glass, we couldn’t exactly hear her but she looked rather angry,” Theo explained. “Daphne went out actually to see if there was actually glass separating us, which of course there wasn’t, but really it was quite funny. Then Draco came back looking angry. Do you know why?”

“Mostly because I asked the pompous prat to apologize,” Harry sighed. “To my friends, which he shouldn’t even be asked to in the first place! You would think that he would apologize naturally.”

“But they aren’t part of our society,” Theo said.

“They are!”

“Not pure-blood society,” Theo said. “It’s not how we were taught… Weasleys are blood traitors and Granger’s a mud—”

“Don’t you even dare!” Harry seethed. Theo frowned.

“Sorry… Granger is a muggleborn… you’ve read those books, they’re less than us.”

“No they’re not though!”

“According to pureblood society, they are,” Theo said.

“Well in that account I think pureblood society is a bunch of bullocks,” Harry said. “I like the submissive clause, I want to be Draco’s but… I’m not giving up who I am because of that.”

“And who are you?” Theo asked. They both stopped in the emptying corridor. Theo stared at Harry, looking both wiser and older than Harry has ever seen.

“I’m…” Harry struggled to find an answer.

“You don’t even know?”

“I’m Harry,” Harry said, “just Harry.”

“Just Harry? Can ‘just Harry’ force Pansy Parkinson out of a compartment using the Dark Arts and never allow her to return? Does ‘just Harry’ learn from the man who was his sworn enemy? Can ‘just Harry’ make the arrogant and egotistical Draco Malfoy fall in love with him?” Theo asked. “You are more than ‘just Harry.’ You are Harry Potter, and right now, you need to figure out exactly who that boy is… or you might just lose everything.”

Harry stared at Theo. His mind refused to work out an answer, his sense of belonging felt shattered, for the first time Harry felt lost around the Slytherins. Mindlessly he followed Theo out of the train, his senses dulled to everything, even when he and Theo were stuck in the middle of a crowd of students pushing their way to get to the horseless carriages… which weren’t horseless anymore.

There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts: if Harry had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes, white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither—vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. Harry could not understand why the coaches were being pulled by these horrible horses when they were quite capable of moving along by themselves.

Theo looked at Harry and gave a knowing look. “Harry,” he said, getting the boy’s attention as he held open the carriage door. “Does being you mean you can also see those creatures?” Harry frowned and looked from Theo to those horses again. _He can see them too?_ He thought to himself, before two sets of arms pulled him into the carriage, and Draco and Blaise settled him in between them. Daphne squeezed in and closed the carriage and, with his mind still everywhere and nowhere, Harry looked around dazed as the terrible, almost monstrous horses started pulling the carriages away up the path to Hogwarts.


	15. Discourse

Ch. 15

Discourse

Harry looked out the window as the carriage moved it’s way to Hogwarts. The Slytherins around him talked about some topic or other, he did not feel like joining in. He still felt empty, strange and conflicted. Theo’s words kept playing in his head, and Harry closed his eyes as he tried to sort out everything in his life.

He envisioned a table, one side was shaded in black while the other was white. In between was just a mess, a pile of everything Harry cared about and everyone he loved or known. It was a beast of a pile, a collection of odds and ends and connections that made Harry feel scared whenever he thought about it. Harry wanted to sort it out, try to make some sense of the life he’s in but he couldn’t. He felt trapped by the mountain, even when he did his best to lift up one aspect of his life that he wanted to keep, he knew that somewhere in that mountain of connections were three others that conflicted it. He wanted to be with Draco, but that would mean he would have to jump through the hoops of Pureblood society and maybe ultimately giving up his friends. When he was alone, Harry never thought of it, he just thought of being Draco’s, having the blonde as his boyfriend. And now that he has… Harry felt something tighten inside him as the consequences seemed to be slowly closing in.

It was a blessing when the carriages finally stopped in front of the castle. Harry walked out without a word or look at the Slytherins. He felt crowded, he needed air. As silently and quickly as he could, he separated from the crowd of students heading into the castle for the Welcoming Feast. He stood to the side of the two doors held wide open and stared. The sky was cloudy, the clouds hanging low over Hogwarts as a cold breeze drifted through from the mountains. Harry half hoped that Draco would come and follow him, or that Ron and Hermione would chance upon him, and he also hoped that none would find him either. He wanted to be alone to think yet held by someone he could trust. His stomach churned, his brain pounded, and his heart felt like it skipped every other beat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he moved further away into the shadows where he got an idea. He knew who he would talk to, who he ultimately needed to talk to. He looked around and wished that he could have talked to the Dark Lord now, to let it all out, but he couldn’t. Harry knew that he needed to be seen at the Welcoming Feast. So, doing his best to take subtle calming breaths, Harry walked back and joined the crowd.

Inside the Great Hall, the four long House tables were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall  and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another’s new haircuts and robes. Harry noticed that people would put their heads together and whisper as he passed, however he just couldn’t bring himself to care. It was another worry too many, and he felt like he was close to exploding.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry found Ron and Hermione and sat down silently between them. “Harry! There you are mate,” Ron said, “we couldn’t find you at the carraiges!”

“You alright Harry? The Slytherins didn’t do anything did they?” Hermione frowned, noticing Harry’s expressionless look.

“Hmm… yeah, I’m fine,” Harry nodded, “they didn’t do anything.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked.

“Y-yeah… look, can we talk about this later Hermione… somewhere where people aren’t looking?” Harry asked.

Hermione and Ron looked at him, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Harry repeated. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” Ron nodded. He looked at the staff table and frowned, “I don’t see Hagrid,” he said.

“Well he’s with the first years… right?” Harry asked, thankful to be distracted.

“You didn’t see? It was Professor Grubbly-Plank,” Hermione said.

“It was?” Harry asked, frowning slightly. “Where’s Hagrid?” He asked, concerned.

“Don’t know…”

“Who’s that?” Hermione asked sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

Harry’s eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore’s head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “However, I don’t like the look of her…”

Ron nodded in agreement. Still feeling torn apart, Harry found himself drifting from attention. The first years came, the Sorting Hat sang, and Harry’s eyes drifted to the Slytherin Table.

Draco was sitting with his friends, he looked happy, as though nothing was bothering him. Harry frowned a little, wishing that Draco could feel at least some discord of what Harry had inside him. The blonde, either by coincidence or feeling Harry’s gazed, turned to stare at the Gryffindor table. Their eyes met and Draco’s lips turned upright in a smile. Despite his feelings, Harry found himself smiling back, filled, temporarily, with a love so raw and passionate that only the young and naive could know it. He wanted to kiss Draco and be with him, to sit next to him at such a time, and yet know that he needed to be away, at least for tonight, until he was done with his confusion.

Food appeared and Harry ate. He could feel people staring at him but ignored it. For soon enough, food was gone and Dumbledore stood to give his usual opening speech. Harry tried his best to listen, he really did, however he just did not know how to feel about Dumbledore anymore. He respected the man for four years now, and yet with his secrets… Harry did not want to hate him like his Lord does, however he felt that he had no choice. He did not want to pick a side, he just wanted to be with Draco, but in the process, Harry was afraid that a side was chosen for him.

Then, something unusual happened.

Dumbledore was interrupted.

The woman in pink, whom Dumbledore referred to as Professor Umbridge, their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, stood up with a “Hem hem.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she simpered, “for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright happy faces smiling up at me. I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends.” Harry looked around; nobody was smiling. “The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards of vital importance. Although each Headmaster has brought something new to this historic school…” she looked at Dumbledore and nodded. Out of politeness, Dumbledore nodded back, “Progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be prohibited. Hmm-hem.” She gave a smile and the hall was silent for a full second, all students’ eyes were on Dumbledore. Dumbledore clapped politely for only a few moments, the school following afterwards.

“Thank you Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” Dumbledore said.

“That’s a load of waffle,” Ron muttered.

“Well there was important stuff in that waffle,” Hermione said grimly.

“Like what?” Ron asked blankly.

“Like how the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts,” Hermione said.

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

“Ron, we’re supposed to show the first years where to go!”

“Oh yeah,” Ron said, who had obviously forgotten, “Hey—hey you lot! Midgets!”

“RON!”

“Well, they are, they’re titchy…”

“I know, but you can’t call them midgets… First years!” Hermione called commandingly along the table. “This way, please!”

Harry did not wait till everyone was sleeping. He separated from the crowd of students as soon as he could, taking a couple hidden passages until he was utterly alone. He found himself in an empty corridor, there were no portraits or suits of armor in the corridor, just two long dark brick walls parallel with each other as they went down. Harry was feeling extremely nervous, his hands shook, his heart was racing, he did not know what he was doing, why he was retreating back to him, but it felt like all he could do.

The red eyes appeared for him, and Harry walked towards them, his mind spinning with each step, his thoughts a total mess, coiled and stuck together with his feelings, his words, his passions and wants. Harry tried his best to separate his individual thoughts, to make sense of what he wanted, of what he needed as he walked, but he found it was almost impossible. He was being driven by anxiety and passion, he was afraid of the outcome, but he could not stop himself. …He did not want to stop himself.

Harry found himself not in the basement, but in a small room. The curtains were drawn over the windows, and the only light available was coming from a large fireplace, whose light shone on dilapidated furniture. Dusty tables and sofas whose ornate designs were eaten away by time and poor care. There was one chair situated directly in front of the fireplace, and Harry could see the outlines of a person sitting in it. “Why are you here, Potter?” Voldemort asked, “I did not summon you.”

“I needed to talk to you,” Harry said.

There was silence. Harry stood his ground, he found his hand slowly going for his wand. Then, quite suddenly, Voldemort stood up and turned to face Harry. “Speak,” he commanded.

Harry gapped, he was not expecting this, or really planned out anything to say. He had questions, but they forced themselves into his mouth all at once that he forced himself to close his mouth to think for a moment before asking, “Why are we doing this?”

“What do you mean?” Voldemort asked curiously.

Harry faltered, then looked up at Voldemort, “Why are you at war? Why did you include me? I feel… I feel tensed, anxious… I don’t know what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it.”

“You are confused,” Voldemort said simply.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Poor Potter… innocent Harry,” Voldemort began, “there is no reason to be confused here, with your master. You wanted this, remember Harry? You wanted to learn from me, and learned you did. You wanted to be with Draco Malfoy… and aren’t you? Aren’t you his submissive… his lover? You are getting everything you desire Harry, everything you want… and through it all, you are becoming who you are always meant to be.”

“But…but,” Harry tried to articulate his confusion, his doubts and worries, his lostness. “I don’t know who I am,” he said slowly.

Voldemort stepped forward and grabbed Harry’s arm with one hand, pushing up his robe sleeve with the other. “This is who you are, Potter,” he said. The firelight illuminated Harry’s mark, the ink a deadly black, showing Harry’s altered Dark Mark. Seeing it, for the first time it made Harry’s stomach churn as he had second thoughts.

“But why?” Harry insisted, “why the war?”

“To take back what has been stolen from us,” Voldemort said. “We deserve to be superior Harry, we deserve to rule. We were forced to hide, forced to cower into our mansions, our homes and shamed for who we are. For too long have we been in the dark, hidden away like a secret, our gifts excused and turned into myths and fairy tales. We wizards are superior, Harry. Superior to all. To house-elves, to centaurs, to merfolk and especially muggles. Muggles, who do not even know our existence—muggles who we have to hide because our governments would rather have us secreted away instead of being in our rightful place, higher above muggles, ruling over muggles. The Wizarding community have lost touch with our roots, our traditions, like your Submissive Clause that you love so much Harry. Together we will rule over wizards and muggles, humans and magical creatures. We will bring back our hierarchy, and we will have what we are deserved.” There was a passionate glint in Voldemort’s eyes. “This was what we were working for, this was what Alphard and I spent our lives for—I have lost too much to stop now. You will see Harry, I see my Alphard in you—you will learn to think like him, you’ve already have.

“You and him were in similar situations, just as you and I were. He was my apprentice, my submissive, and I’ve used the same clause to make him mine… and in doing so, I have cast away those disgusting apes, the Riddles, from my life. A father who did not know I existed and grandparents who pretended my mother did not exist. Those were my muggle blood, and I threw them away completely. Just as you will throw away the Dursleys.” He paused, Harry was still staring at him, his stomach still churning. “Harry… muggles are beneath us, nothing good can come from their existence… they only live to serve Wizarding kind… the same as mudbloods—”

“You’re wrong,” Harry barked back.

“Excuse me!”

“They’re not useless,” Harry said, “Nobody… nobody is useless. That’s… that kind of thinking is wrong, my lord. And I… I don’t hate muggles or mudbloods—they don’t live to serve us, I don’t want that. I don’t’ want to push away my mother, or my friends. Hermione is the brightest witch I have ever known, and she comes from muggle parents and she is just as much a witch as anyone! I… I may not like my aunt and uncle, but that does not mean that I want to kill them!”

“It is your right as a wizard Harry!”

“No it’s not!” Harry yelled back, his churning stomach settling as an instinctive anger took over. “It is backwards thinking—disgusting! The Submissive Clause sounded so good to me once I was alone—when I did not think I would ever get Draco but the more I learn about Pureblood society—about the world you want to bring, I’m sorry but I cannot agree with it.”

“I am your master—”

“And you also killed my parents! One of them a muggleborn and I know that she was also one of the cleverest witches in her day!” Harry yelled back, his fists shaking. Voldemort’s hand moved from his arm and the Dark Lord took a step back.

“You are going against me Harry?”

“I don’t want to—I—I grew to like you, however…” Harry found his throat caught. “I cannot condone what you are after Voldemort.”

They both glared at each other, Harry could feel both their anger growing. “You are my apprentice—I spared you,” Voldemort seethed, “You do not get to choose to go against me!”

“I told you—I don’t want to go against you!” Harry yelled, “I have nothing against Dumbledore—I’ve learned to respect you! I can’t do this! This is too much for me my lord! Too much stress—too much sources—I don’t want to lose anybody even you!”

“You cannot have everything Potter! Dumbledore must die—mudbloods and muggles must die and be subjugated—it half-bloods must revert to their pure state. Muggle blood tarnishes our own blood, our pure wizarding blood. This is inevitable Harry, you have accepted this during the summer, you have vowed your total allegiance to myself—you were prepared to go fully into the Dark Arts. Or was poisoning your friends with the Obedience Potion a lie? Or your happiness and natural talent with the Dark Arts simply all a coincidence and luck? You are a Dark Wizard Harry—”

“I’m not!”

“You are a Dark Wizard and every time you deny who you are, you are just delaying the inevitable,” Voldemort said.

“I am not a Dark Wizard!” Harry insistently yelled.

“Then who are you then?”

“I’m—I’m… I don’t know!” Harry yelled; his whole body was now trembling. His fingers gripping his wand felt like stone, his legs like jelly and his heart felt like it would fail, skipping every beat. “I don’t know who I am!”

“Pathetic,” Voldemort sighed, “you are so lost and confused Harry. But don’t worry, that is why I’m here… together we will get rid of your confusion, wipe away the muggleness that stains you, and you will see that everything will work out.” He reached our for Harry, his long fingers looking monstrous, his eyes hungry and smile fake. Harry’s mind snapped; a decision made before either could think about it. His emerald eyes sharpened, Voldemort’s ruby eyes widened in surprised as both wands became pointed at one another, but only one voice yelled out.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm low on serotonin.... I have a feeling this is a generational mood.


	16. Scion

Ch. 16

Scion

Death. Death was a terrifying concept, an unknowable abyss that would last for the rest of eternity. And yet, it was also inevitable, a force to come to everyone, from great tyrants to common wizards; from leaders to common folk; and Dark Lords and their followers.

One voice rang out that night, the bright green light of the Killing Curse appeared, illuminating both bodies in it’s killing light, the curse traveling from it’s caster’s wand, soaring between the distance and striking at it’s destination. Half a centimeter, half a hair, enough to cheat death and enough to die. The Killing Curse flew and missed it’s target, striking the fireplace mantel behind him.

Harry felt frozen, adrenaline coursing through his body as he stared at his Dark Lord. It missed… his Killing Curse missed and the Dark Lord still stood alive over him. His knees gave away, Harry fell to all fours, his wand rolling from his grasp and he broke down crying, his body trembling violently.

The Dark Lord stood transfixed for a moment before smiling. It was a wide smile that did not match with his face. He knew that he should have been angry, however instead of anger or rage, pride swam and filled his body. He stepped towards Harry and watched as he cried. “Damn it, damn it, why couldn’t I do it? I’m pathetic! Weak!”

“No, you are not,” Voldemort answered. Harry looked up, his face reddened, eyes puffed and watery. “That spell was powerful, it’s intend was clear and would have killed me, if I was killable.”

“What do… what do you mean?” Harry asked. Voldemort walked to his chair with his wand and waved it, turning it to face Harry, with another wave a low couch appeared. Voldemort motioned for Harry to move there, which the boy did, collapsing on the pillows, laying with his face towards Voldemort.

“Even if your mark did not miraculously missed, if it was against any other opponent you would have killed him Harry,” Voldemort said in a surprisingly soft voice. He paused then said, “There are a lot about the Dark Arts that is unknown by the light, only those who know of the darkest dwellings will venture in, and those who do not generally stay away. I would not die if you hit me with your Curse, as I did not die when you killed Quirrell four years ago. I am immortal, I’ve taken the steps to become this, and so I have found a way to become above everyone, superior.

“There are objects, Dark Objects, called Horcruxes, Harry. Some, including Dumbledore, would speak that they are the Darkest of all Objects, because of what they are…”

“And… what are they?” Harry asked softly.

“Instruments… protection,” Voldemort continued, “They are powerful objects that hold pieces of my soul. As long as they are intact, I can never die for my soul will still be latched onto Earth. To make them, I have murdered, purposefully murdered, and done a ritual so complex and taxing that I will not talk about it here.”

Harry nodded he thought for a moment before speaking, “The diary… your diary, that was a Horcrux… wasn’t it?”

“One of them, yes,” Voldemort nodded. “I have made several Harry. The dairy was the first.”

“What else?”

Voldemort thought for a moment, debating internally, before nodding, “What I say now will not leave this room, understand Harry?” The boy nodded meekly. “I have the diary, which is now gone, a ring that was from my mother’s family… I stole it from my grandfather and killed my father and his parents to create my second Horcrux. After that, I have went and looked for relics of Hogwarts’ Founders, four items that they left to their descendants. Slytherin, a locket, Ravenclaw, a diadem, Hufflepuff, a cup, and Gryffindor, a sword. Each with their own history, each with their own relevance. The locket, the cup, and diadem I have found, and with each I have killed and split my soul even furthered, creating them into my Horcruxes. I now have five, but there was one more… one that was made by mistake, coincidental, a Horcrux whose soul of mine chose… you, Harry. You are my Final Horcrux.”

Harry did not move. He found himself too exhausted to react at first, his brain moving slowly to understand what Voldemort just revealed. “How…” he said slowly.

“When I was revived, I thought I’ve felt something inside you, it is only when you’ve submitted was I certain,” Voldemort said. “I do not know when you have taken my soul, but you did and it is in you.” Harry frowned, he looked down at his own body and felt strange.

“I don’t feel it…”

“You wouldn’t.”

Harry frowned. He slowly slid into a sitting position, his eyes stayed on his lap. Voldemort stood and walked slowly towards Harry’s wand. “There is more,” he began. Harry looked up and watched Voldemort. “After Hogwarts, I have left England, traveling the world in order to research the Dark Arts. The task of which, finding and creating my Horcrux, has drained me of my humanity and my handsomeness, creating the face that you see now. However,” Voldemort stopped and bent to pick up Harry’s wand. He turned slowly to Harry. “Recently I have found a way to restore my looks, bring back my handsomeness to use against my enemies.” He moved towards Harry and sat down next to him.

“I require a scion, a son, with whom I share blood status and who is my lineage,” Voldemort said. “It is another ritual, another Dark Art, but one that will enhance both of us, Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, no, I cannot kill you—you are my Horcrux, you are too important to kill as keeper of my soul… and my apprentice,” Voldemort said. “You do not want to get rid of your mother, but you are not, her magic will stay, her memory and actions will always remain. But your relatives, those muggles whom Dumbledore force you to return to summer after summer, who mistreat you without fail. You can replace them, cut ties from them, so that you will never visit them, never forced to be with them again. Think of it Harry, a life without the Dursleys.” Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of never having to see his Aunt and Uncle again, of never having to suffer Dudley and his friends ever again.

He nodded softly and in a soft voice whispered, “I would like that…”

“Of course, you would Harry, of course,” Voldemort said. “This is not about ideology, nor conflicts or war, but safety, your safety. Safety as a wizard in a world that do not know us, safety as a Dark Wizard in a world who fears us… and safety as a homosexual in a world who would let us die. You are young, but what they have done in the Americas, in here and over the world, I have witnessed it all. I can protect you Harry, I can give you what you have always desired.”

“What…” Harry swallowed and licked his lips slowly, nervous, “what would I have to do?”

“Become my scion, reject the Dursleys, you will be a pureblood and my son,” Voldemort said, his hand moved slowly, holding out Harry’s wand. “With your father’s blood, Potter blood, and mine in you, you Harry all I would need is a vial, less than half a liter, of your mixed blood, which I will use as the base of my potion. If you wish to have Draco forever Harry, there will be many obstacles in your path, many hoops you must cross… but I will help you Harry, my son…”

Harry stared at the Dark Lord, his heart still pounding, but his tears have finally dried. He looked at the man and tried to envision what he looked, his mind went to the Tom Riddle he saw in the diary and tried to make him older in his mind. Something small but growing quickly wanted to see that, wanted to see that man standing in front of him in the flesh.

“I don’t agree to your ideology…” Harry said.

“We will talk about that later, but for now, just answer, think with your heart, your instincts,” Voldemort said. Harry nodded and thought once more on the proposal. He was silent, staring at his wand in Voldemort’s hand, the long spider-like fingers slowly morphed in Harry’s mind, the flesh becoming healthier, the fingers shortening to more human-looking shapes. He found himself nodding, “Yes, yes,” he said a couple times, taking his wand from Voldemort. “Yes,” he said again.

“Excellent,” Voldemort said, he stood quickly, “Then we will not waste a second.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, standing up as well.

“We shall perform the rituals right away,” Voldemort said, “as there is no use in delaying them. We do not need witnesses, just you and me.”

“What do you mean?” Harry repeated, “The book said I needed to marry—”

“For your blood purity, without marriage you need a pureblood who will adopt you, which is me,” Voldemort explained. “I’ve had the potion prepared, the ritual to make you my scion, however, will have to wait for this one will cause moderate pain, and needs hours to set in.”

“What is going to happen?” Harry asked.

Voldemort started walking away, Harry following silently. They left the ruined sitting room and into a short hallway that had a door that, when opened, shown a wooden staircase leading up. “I will explain in the room,” Voldemort said simply. Harry nodded, feeling more awake and focused as they walked.

It was becoming late at night, Harry knew that he was far after curfew when he and his lord finally reached a room whose windows were completely bare. There was nothing, no furniture except for a cauldron that sat in the middle of the room, runes and a sigil surrounding it, slowly rotating as the potion in the cauldron boiled. It smelled rather heavenly, and a little musky as Harry step towards it. “Do I just drink the potion?” Harry asked.

“To put it simply, yes,” Voldemort said, “I must add a final ingredient, however, as do you.” Harry felt a shiver and turned towards his lord. Voldemort stepped to the potion and produced a sharp silver knife. Harry watched as the Dark Lord extended his arm over the cauldron. “This would have been your husband’s blood, a husband’s blood to cleanse his submissive,” Voldemort said, “however I am your Lord, your father now, and this will work just as well.” His hand moving quickly, his face showing no reaction or flinching, Voldemort sliced a clean cut into his arm, and Harry had to look away as his blood poured slowly into the potion.

The Dark Lord healed himself and cleaned the knife before putting it away, “Come Harry, it is ready now,” Voldemort said. Harry looked and saw Voldemort waiting, steam dancing from the potion, twisting and spiraling with one another as it rose in the air, releasing more of that musky smell that Harry found pleasant. An old chalice appeared before him, and the potion filled itself into it. Harry grasped the chalice and looked at Voldemort. “Breathe in the vapors, let the smell penetrate your being and drink,” Voldemort said, he looked down at the cauldron, “you must drink all that is in here.”

Harry nodded, he brought the chalice to his lips and began drinking the musky, pleasant smelling potion. It was surprisingly tasteless, and flowed like water. He felt nothing as he drank cup after cup of the potion. Voldemort walked around, his wand out and muttered slowly, outside of the sigil that continued to spiral endlessly around Harry and the cauldron. Halfway through, he started to feel strange. Light-headed, his insides were tingling, his fingers started to tremble around the goblet as he continued to drink more and more, his body started to react as if he was aroused, which caused Harry to blush, he felt heated, his face red, nipples started to get erect and his member stiffened. He was glad to be wearing robes as none of this was visible to the Dark Lord as he continued his muttering.

Harry kept drinking, reaching down deep to refill the chalice, the potion continuing filling itself back into it until, at long last, the cauldron was empty. He felt different yet he couldn’t explain how. The sigil was now gone, and Voldemort stood in front of Harry. “It is done, now you will need to sleep, the changes will be finished overnight.”

“What is going to happen?” Harry asked.

“Your muggle blood will be conquered, taken over by my own,” Voldemort said. “The Dursleys, you will no longer worry about, for you will be mine, Harry, just as you were your father’s.” Harry nodded, exhausted and full. “Go now, back to Gryffindor Tower,” Voldemort commanded, “rest my son, and you will wake up to a new life.”

Harry nodded and walked towards a gathering of darkness. Following the shadow-walkers, he found himself back in Hogwarts, in the Gryffindor dormitory. He walked away from the dark corner and sat on his bed.

The door opened and Ron walked in, looking tired, “Harry!” He gasped, “There you are mate, where were you? Hermione and I looked all over the common room for you!”

“Sorry, I just wanted a bit of walk… I had my Invisibility Cloak,” Harry said. Ron looked a little jealous but shrugged it off.

“That’s alright mate—just, watch out for Seamus alright? He’s been talking bad about you,” Ron frowned. “He and his mum believes the rubbish the Prophet’s been saying.”

“Ah, thanks,” Harry said, yawning. “Sorry Ron, but I’m exhausted, I’m heading to bed now.”

Ron nodded, “Me too,” he said. The two dressed in silent, Harry felt hotter than usual as he got under his covers, closing his bed curtains after saying goodnight to Ron before, under the privacy of his covers and bed curtains, shrugged off his clothes as he began to sweat profusely. His stomach started to hurt, his blood boiled, and his eyes felt awful as, throughout this pain, Harry fell unconscious, and slept through his changes, the mark on his arm ever growing and pulsed strongly.


	17. Change

Ch. 17

Change

Harry woke up feeling the same as ever. He did not feel different, or special or even an odd quiver, he just felt like himself, like he had just woken up from a night’s long sleep. The potion worked, he assumed, and now he was just sitting there in his bed, wondering if last night was worth it. He did not know how to answer, but he knew who could. Taking a breath, he got out of bed and dressed, the other boys in the dormitory already up and out. Harry made his way quickly down to the Great Hall, where he saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin Table. He ignored the looks and whispered, his sights solely on his boyfriend as he walked up to the blonde.

“Draco, I need to talk with you,” he said when he was close enough.

The blonde only glanced up, “It is nice to see you too Potter, ask again.”

“Draco—it’s important please… please, Sir,” he whispered. Draco smirked at that and stood up calmly.

“Then let’s go,” he said. He took Harry’s hand in his own and walked Harry down the hall, holding his head up high as stares and whispers followed them. Out into the entrance hall, Draco led Harry down to the dungeons, the Gryffindor always a step behind, glancing around in case anybody follows them.

Draco turned a corner and led down the corridor, into the first classroom that they spotted. It was a potions room, with empty cauldrons and long tables. Torches lit the room, though Harry could still feel a chill going through him from the cold. Harry turned and locked the door behind him as Draco gathered two chairs for them to sit in. “So, what is it?” Draco asked as they sat down.

“Last night…” Harry took a breath, “Last night I went to our Lord, we had… an argument and… I lost it, I casted the Killing Curse and missed him by a hair. He wasn’t mad… in fact, quite the opposite really, he was proud, real proud. He and I talked… he persuaded me… our Lord he’s… he’s going to become my father, he now is my father… his blood is in my veins and,” Harry took a deep breath, “I’m now a Pureblood, Draco.”

“That… that is amazing Harry!” Draco said after a while, smiling widely at his boyfriend. He pulled the smaller boy into his arms and his lips, their mouths smashing against each other in a passionate kiss that stoked both their fires.

“You’re—you’re not mad?” Harry gasped between kisses, their mouths and tongues pressing against each other, dancing with one another as small moans drifted from their throats.

“No, no, you’re good my sweet, my Harry—I’m so proud to be your boyfriend and Sir,” Draco declared. They smiled at each other; foreheads pressed against each other as a need filled them. Silently, they stared at each other, emerald eyes meeting silver. Harry found his legs moving, kneeling in front of Draco, his face directly in line with the hem of Draco’s pants. The blonde opened his robes and Harry reached up, undoing the Slytherin’s pants, revealing his bulging underwear.

“Please,” Harry whispered.

“Please what Harry?” Draco smirked, “Beg for it.”

“Please Draco—”

“Husband… call me your husband, Harry,” Draco said. Harry’s own cock pulsed at the word, growing.

“Please… let me suck my husband’s cock,” Harry mewled.

“Of course, Harry,” Draco said, he spread his legs and stood slightly so Harry could pull his pants and underwear down, revealing his cock. It was meticulous and beautiful, much like Harry’s husband. Thick, and bigger than Harry’s, the uncut cock had a little patch of trimmed blonde pubic hair, and two big balls that hung underneath, clean and full of cum, letting off a scent that drove Harry wild. He licked the ball sack slowly, moaning at the dirty, perverted taste that filled his tongue. This was his first and only cock, and he was already addicted.

Instinct moved Harry as he licked and sucked Draco’s nuts, his tongue dancing around and playing with the skin. He opened his mouth wide and sucked a nut into it, Draco gave a throaty moan as Harry played with it in his tongue, letting his teeth scrape gently against it as he rolled and pushed it out. Harry then licked and kissed his way up Draco’s length, until he reached the cockhead. He kissed it submissively, and rubbed his cheek against it before taking the heat in his hand, pulling gently to fully reveal the cockhead, where he kissed and licked all over.

“Swallow me Harry,” Draco demanded.

Harry opened his mouth and enveloped Draco’s cock. It filled his mouth and he started gagging instantly. The smell was powerful, too powerful, and the taste was otherworldly, he loved it as much as it made him gag. “Stay there, breath my cock Harry,” Draco said.

Harry gagged and did his best to stay still. His lungs needed air, and he did his best to keep breathing through his nose. They sat there, Draco’s hard cock in Harry’s mouth, Harry’s eyes started to water and he licked the cockhead as he slowly, ever so slowly, pushed down, the cock going further into his mouth and throat. He stopped and cough violently, gagging but he fisted his hands, holding his thumbs. That helped and he worked on the few inches that he could keep in his mouth.

“Harry, oh gods Harry,” Draco moaned. Harry continued to work on his cock, one hand unclenching and working on the of Draco’s cock as he sucked off the most he could manage. Draco’s hand moved to Harry’s hair, weaving into the raven locks, grabbing tightly and kept Harry at a steady pace which they both grew comfortable. Harry’s own cock was pulsing madly in his pants, weeping for need but left alone as the focus was on Draco’s.

Harry looked up, Draco’s cheeks were red, and his breath was heavy, his balls tightened near his cock and without warning, a hot thick stream of cum flooded Harry’s mouth. He began swallowing immediately, the substance going down his throat and causing the sub to moan around his Sir’s cock.

“Damn Harry…” Draco breathed when Harry swallowed the last of his cum. “That was brilliant… take out your own dick.”

Harry nodded and quickly took off his pants, revealing his own cock, smaller but still just as hard. Draco got off his seat and pulled Harry’s robes off and pushed his shirt up, revealing his smooth skin which tingled against the stone floor as Draco had him lay down.

Draco’s hands were very skilled, he grabbed and worked Harry’s cock expertly, one hand moving up and down swiftly while the other teased and played with Harry’s balls. “Draco—draco—oh god Draco,” Harry breathed.

“That’s it Harry, cum for me,” Draco whispered, “be a good boy now.” Harry moaned and came after Draco squeezed his cock, his own cum shooting into the air and landing on his exposed skin. His balls and cock shuttered as jet and jet of cum shot from his cock, landing all over his exposed body. Spent and growing flaccid, Draco let go of the cock and started to rub the spent cum on Harry’s body, spreading it around his sun-kissed skin, the body absorbing it. “That’s a good boy, such a good pureblood boy,” Draco muttered.

Harry couldn’t help but smile, closing his eyes and moaned under Draco’s fingers. The two stayed there, Draco rubbing Harry’s cum in his skin until it was fully gone. He then licked his fingers clean and dressed himself before dressing Harry. “You were such a good boy during that Harry,” he praised.

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry blushed, the pride growing inside him. “Can I… can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you mean it? The husband part?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a moment before taking Harry’s hand, “Of course,” he said, “now that you’re a pureblood Harry, I can have you as mine, fully. Of course, we’ll need to train you to take my cock properly, but we have the rest of our lives to do that.” He chuckled, “And I’ll need to learn how to take yours, I’m curious about sucking too you know, who knows maybe I can make you cum with my tongue while you’re flaccid,” he smiled widely, “that’ll be an achievement only a husband can do!”

“Yeah,” Harry blushed and chuckled. “So… husbands… I like the sound of that,” he smiled.

“Me too Harry,” Draco nodded.

“So what now?”

“We go back, and live our lives normally,” Draco said, “I’ll think of dates we can do, spots we can fool around with, but other than that, you better not slack on your studies, I won’t have an idiot husband.”

Harry smiled and nodded, “Of course,” he said. “So… the Dark Lord’s apprentice and son, and Draco Malfoy’s Husband… between you and me, I think I like being your husband better,” he gave a cheeky grin which cause Draco to laugh.

Draco kissed Harry’s cheek and shook his head, “Come on boy,” he said, “let’s go live our ‘normal lives’ now.” He took Harry’s hand and led him out of the dungeon.

Harry and Draco’s lives since then in Hogwarts turned to a new, horny normal. They went to class, meeting up whenever they could just for a kiss or holding hands. After their first class with Professor Umbridge, Draco yelled at Harry for being “a stupid hothead who couldn’t keep his mouth shut!” They made up after an argument, and their sexual adventures continued until before Harry knew it, September came and went, October was upon them.

Harry felt an immense pain on his inner arm. He was alone, miraculously, and when he looked around, the red eyes of the shadow-walkers were upon him. Groaning in pain, Harry pulled his sleeve up roughly to see his mark, dark and pulsing angrily. “FUCK—what!” He groaned. He looked at the shadow-walkers and ran after them, disappearing from the corridor. His arm pulsed with pain as he ran, his mind swimming, wondering what was going on, what caused this pain. Was the Dark Lord summoning him? Did something happened to the Dark Lord? This has never happened before, Harry was worried, confused, and scared.

Light entered instantly; Harry almost stumbled at the suddenness. He looked around wildly—he was in Malfoy Manor, nothing seemed out of place, nothing seemed dangerous. His eyes landing on the Dark Lord, who stood calmly, his wand pressed against his inner arm. Next to him was a large stone cauldron, like the one in which Harry’s lord was revived in.

“My son,” Voldemort said, “it is time for you to repay your father. We shall use your blood, regain that which I lost, and together I shall introduce you to my followers as my son.”

Harry’s heart was beating quickly. His breath was still hitched and heavy from running in the darkness. He straightened to stand fully. He cleared his throat and looked at Voldemort, “Yes father,” he said, and he stepped towards the stone cauldron, rolling up his sleeve.


	18. Rise

Ch. 18

Rise

Harry swore loudly when the knife pierced his arm. He had no idea what he was thinking, that there wouldn’t be pain in this process. Voldemort made him cut his arm over the stone cauldron, and he immediately regretted his decision at the first second the sharp point of the silver knife met his skin. Poking instantly and drops of blood already peaking out, connecting with the knife and pooling slightly. Harry did not want to move, he did not want the knife to hurt him more. He just stood there in pain, failing to bite back swears.

“Get on with it!” Voldemort demanded. “I will heal your wound as soon as I have enough blood.”

“And how much blood does this—ahh oh fuck—potion needs?” Harry swore as his hand shook, opening the wound to a two inch cut down his arm. Voldemort just stared irritably before moving to a nearby cabinet, opening it to reveal vial after vial of a dark red potion. He took one and closed the cabinet before returning to Harry.

“Make the wound bigger, I need your blood, _son_ ,” Voldemort said, emphasizing the last word. “I need half a liter.”

“Half a liter,” Harry groaned in pain, his eyes were wet with tears. “That’ll kill me!”

“Nonsense you idiot boy,” Voldemort said, “As soon as I have my half liter, you will drink this, a Blood Replenishing Potion. And besides, the human body has 5.5 liters of blood, this is hardly a sacrifice for me.” Through the pain, Harry glared at Voldemort. The Dark Lord took a step closer, “More Harry, I need more blood!”

Harry breathed through his nose heavily and screamed as he dragged the knife slowly, hating every moment and wishing that he could take it all back. _Why can’t he just take the blood from me while I was sleeping damn it?_ He thought.

Voldemort chuckled, “Because my sweet son… if I have done, then the potion would not work, and I still enjoy watching you suffer,” he said.

“Of course you read thoughts,” Harry gritted out. The cut was now five inches long, going down his arm. The pain was immense and Harry screamed and whimpered as he blood drained out of the cut, along his arm and dripped down into the cauldron. _I’m going to do, I’m going to fucking die,_ he thought to himself.

“So dramatic,” Voldemort huffed. He took out his wand and gave Harry’s arm a tap. The pain increased tenfold as instead of naturally flowing from the small slit, Harry’s blood flooded out, pushing the edges of his cut wider from the sheer volume. The Dark Lord watched with a sick fascination at Harry’s suffering as the cauldron filled with his blood. Tears rolled down Harry’s puffed eyes, all he could feel was the pain that came from his arm, no swearing as his screams turned into a pathetic painful moan as he felt himself growing weaker. _He’s going to kill me,_ Harry thought to himself as more and more of his blood was taken. The Dark Lord watched carefully, measuring by his eyes as, for extra measure, and he must admit it was a pleasure, he just simply mollified with just half a liter of Harry’s blood, taking almost one full liter before closing the wound, stopping the bleeding immediately. “Here,” He said.

Harry snatched the Blood-Replenishing potion from his father’s hand and pulled the cork off, swallowing the thick disgusting potion in one go, his brain dizzy and woozy from the loss of blood. With it empty, Harry collapsed onto a wooden chair as Voldemort busied himself with the potion.

With his strength slowly returning, Harry panted as he looked at Voldemort, “Never… never again. You’re never taking my blood again.”

“We will see about that,” Voldemort said, not even looking at Harry. “There are many potions that require human blood, and where else will I get something so… _pure_?” he chuckled to himself.

“Fuck that… I hated that,” Harry said.

“Go clean yourself up boy, I’ll won’t need you for an hour,” Voldemort dismissed him.

“Yes, father,” Harry spat out. He stayed sitting until he could feel his full strength return before he attempted to stand up.

“And take another Blood-Replenishing Potion, I took more than half a liter,” Voldemort said. Harry stumbled when he stood and took cautious steps towards the cabinet full of Blood-Replenishing Potions. He took one and left, and his feet took him automatically around Malfoy Manor. He found stairs and before he realized it, he was once again in Draco’s room.

Harry looked down at his bloodied arm and sighed, as much as he wanted to fall onto Draco’s bed and breath in his scent, he didn’t want to dirty any part of his boyfriend’s room. Taking his robe sleeve, he pulled it up and walked towards the nearest door he could see, assuming that, like any rich prat, Draco had a private bathroom. It took Harry three tries, _why in the world does Draco need two closet?,_ before he finally opened to an expansive bathroom with a large sink and bathtub that was sunk into the ground with a shower head hanging directly over. Harry went to the sink and took off his robes, pushed up his sleeve, and began washing.

It was around four when Voldemort suddenly summoned him. Harry looked out a window and saw that the sun had mostly set by now and wondered about the time. _They’re going to wonder where I was…_ he thought to himself, _I need to write to Draco, ask him to make an excuse for me._ With that thought in mind, Harry quickly finished washing his arm, making sure that every hint of blood was gone, leaving it sparkling clean. He went back to Draco’s room and looked around, finding a quill, ink, and parchment before he sat down and began to write.

_Draco,_

_I’m in your room, dad called me immediately out of nowhere, I’ll tell you more about it later. For now I need you to cover for me, please, tell people that you and I were having a date or something in case they ask where I am._

_Love you,_

_Harry_

Harry rolled up the note and held it under the desk, where the sun’s light didn’t reach. He felt a shadow-walker take it and stood up. He had an hour of free time Harry supposed, and he suddenly felt extremely tired. He went to Draco’s bed and collapsed on the soft blankets. Surprisingly, the smell of Draco was still on it, and Harry breathed deeply as he took off his glasses and placed them to the side. The bed was big enough for two, and Harry spread out, wrapping himself in Draco’s smell as he dozed.

An elf came an hour later. “Wake up, please!” it squeaked. Harry opened his eyes and put on his glasses to see a wide-eyed elf wearing an empty potato sack standing by the bed, looking extremely worried. “Please sir, wake up!”

“Why time is it?” Harry yawned, rolling off of Draco’s bed.

“It’s late! Please sir wake up—your father is already punishing Tawny!” the elf said. Harry stood and stretched, “Sorry about that,” he said, feeling a bit more rested. He turned to straighten out Draco’s bed out of habit and made his way back to where Voldemort was waiting, the elf leading the way.

They returned to the room with the stone cauldron to see Voldemort stirring it. He did not even glance at Harry, instead saying, “Sit down Potter, you will help me robe after this is done.”

Harry nodded and went to the same seat he collapsed in an hour earlier, which now had a bundle of robes folded onto it. He took it and placed it on his lap. “And you—get out you idiot!” Voldemort spat at the house elf who whimpered and scurried away.

Voldemort turned to the potion and spoke, “It is ready, once more I will be reborn, and with your blood twice given, I will become more powerful than ever before.” The Dark Lord took out a goblet, it was plain looking, old, and scooped the potion.

“How much… do you have to drink it all, sir?” Harry asked.

“Yes Harry, every last drop,” Voldemort said. “But do not worry for your lord and father… unlike you, I know how to stomach unpleasantness.”

Harry frowned but said nothing as he watched Voldemort drink the potion. His expression did not change as he took gobletful after gobletful of the potion. There was not a sound in the room between Harry and Voldemort, only the soft filling and rinsing sound of the goblet being continuously filled until, at long last, Voldemort drank the last of the potion.

The effect was immediate. His once chalky skin, pure marble and sickly-looking, began to flush, live coming to the skin as though blood was pumping vigorously throughout Voldemort’s system. The cheeks darkened to a healthy, yet still light hue which reminded Harry of the Tom Riddle from the diary. Hair sprouted from the top of Voldemort’s head, growing long and thick, black as night along with white, giving him a salt and pepper hair color, a mature dignified color to an unkempt hair that continued to grow, as though catching up for years lost. His eyes turned dark, becoming a brownish-black, and from where the two slits were, a nose forced itself out, looking remarkably like Harry’s. His long, spider-like fingers reduced, becoming shorter, more human-looking, and though the man’s height stayed the same, his form filled out, looking healthier, not skeletal like the Dark Lord was. When he was done, the Dark Lord stood in front of Harry, looking like a healthy man in his fifties, his hair a mixture of black and white, wild and long and in great needs of a cutting. His robes no longer fit him, and without shame, the Dark Lord disrobed himself as he stood in front of a mirror.

“I see… I’ve still retained most of my original attributes while obtaining some of yours, Harry,” The Dark Lord said. He glanced back to see Harry looking awkwardly away. “Harry! Do not shame yourself, I am your father, in both blood and appearance now! Look upon me, look upon your work.” Harry glanced at the Dark Lord, his cheeks growing red as he looked upon his father’s naked form.

Voldemort snickered at this and turned back to the mirror. He took his wand out from his old robes and with precise movements, his hair started to snip itself away as invisible scissors started to groom the old man. “This was the body that seduced many men and woman, Harry, including my Black,” Voldemort said with a hint of nostalgia. “Hard for you to imagine, yes, but you will see why soon enough, my apprentice.”

Harry just nodded and watched as the Dark Lord made his hair neat, short and styled, a nice mixture of salt-and-pepper that gave him a serious, dignified look. “Much better… my son, you may robe your father,” Voldemort said.

Harry stood up, and pushed all embarrassment down as he kept his eye level high on his father’s body, holding out the pure black robe for him. With a sadistic smirk, Voldemort took the robe and dressed himself.

“And now… we address the followers, come my son,” Lord Voldemort said. Harry nodded and followed his lord out of the room.

The two walked into a long, low-lit room with a wide fireplace. The Dark Lord summoned two chairs with his wand and lit the candles and chandelier. Voldemort’s new body was nicely lit, and Harry felt a twinge of pride staring at it.

Voldemort moved to the fireplace, where Harry saw a folded bundle. It was a black robe just as his father’s, with a large hood. “Wear this, I do not wish to reveal you as Harry Potter yet, my son,” Voldemort said.

“Yes father,” Harry found himself muttering. He took the robe from Voldemort, and took off his own Hogwarts robe, putting it behind his chair before putting on the heavier robe whose hood covered and hid most of his upper face.

“Good… yes, now sit my son, and we will call our followers,” Voldemort smirked.

Harry moved to his seat and sat down. Voldemort pressed his wand against his own arm and Harry gasped in pain as his own mark began to burn. One by one they appeared. Men in robes, their faces hidden behind masks. Harry remembered their ideology, the argument that cause him to almost kill his lord. _Cowards and bigots,_ he thought to himself, _old men too afraid of change. They all should step aside._ The men took off their hoods and masks, and Harry’s eyes fell upon Severus Snape. The Potions Professor was mixed with the crowd, standing not in focus or main attention, yet still looked to be there nonetheless, standing next to a man who looked like an older version of Theo.

There was a hush as the Death Eaters looked at Voldemort, every face looking surprised, yet only Snape looked fearful. “Friends,” Voldemort said, “I have summoned you all to join in celebration. As you can see, I have regained a lost appearance… and power. The Dark Arts once stole my humanity, but I have conquered it, becoming more powerful than any Dark Lord has before… and it is all thanks to my son.”

Their surprise only increased as the Death Eaters’ attention moved from their Lord to the hooded teen sitting next to him. “Yes, my son,” Voldemort smirked. “He is of my blood, and will receive the same respect and loyalty that you willingly give me.”

Harry glanced at Voldemort, an upset feeling in his stomach. _I don’t want their respect or loyalty,_ he thought to himself, _I want them all to disappear… except Mr. Malfoy, but only because of Draco._ He did not talk as they stared at him, some falling to their knees while others look at their lord.

“Your blood… my lord, is he pure?” The asker’s screams quickly filled the room as Voldemort casted the Cruciatus Curse. The others separated themselves from the offender as Harry just watched as the Death Eater fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

“How dare you question my son’s purity,” Voldemort seethed. “You dare question your Lord, Goyle?”

“N-No, my lord,” the man said through the painful screams. Voldemort’s eyes looked upon Goyle Snr. with a cold expression and he continued the torture. Harry stared at his feet as the torture went on, doing his best to block out the screams until his father gotten bored.

When he was done, the dark lord left Goyle Snr. shaking in pain, impossible to stand on his own. “Now, as for the Department of Mysteries…” Voldemort continued, “tell me what we know.”

“My lord… I have used all of my influences,” Mr. Malfoy said, “and so far, none would speak of particulars. A prophecy is there, yes, however I cannot learn the specifics like you asked for.”

“I see,” Voldemort said, looking disappointed. Harry looked up at his father and frowned. He did not know what he was talking about. “And our loyal followers in Azkaban?”

“The Dementors are poised to help us at your word,” another Death Eater said.

“Good, good… and Severus, you are quiet, tell me of Hogwarts,” Voldemort said, “what is our good friend Dumbledore doing?”

“Nothing, my lord,” Snape said, “The Umbridge woman is acting as a Ministry official now, reporting and inspecting her ‘fellow instructors.’ The woman has just finished inspecting my morning classes today.”

“Well then, here is hoping for a stellar report,” Voldemort said in a snide voice. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at this, remembering the class all too well. Which also reminded him of something he had to tell his lord. He glanced up and bit his lip. Figuring that, as his son, he could speak, Harry opened his mouth and talked in Parseltongue, _“Father… I’ve remembered something I need to tell you,”_ he said, _“it involves Dumbledore.”_

Voldemort looked at Harry. _“Later, do not interrupt again,”_ he warned. Harry nodded. He sat back and listened as Voldemort asked constantly for reports. When they were done, Voldemort dismissed all the Death Eaters except Mr. Malfoy.

“You can take your hood off now,” Voldemort said when it was just the three of them. Harry looked between Mr. Malfoy and Voldemort before taking it off.

“Potter!” Mr. Malfoy gasped.

“Yes, Potter,” Voldemort chuckled, “he is now my son… and soon your son-in-law.”

“What do you mean, my lord? Is this a joke?”

“No, Malfoy, this is not a joke!” Voldemort said. “Ask your son who he has been… fraternizing with.”

“We’ve been dating since the summer… sir,” Harry said, looking at Mr. Malfoy and talking politely, “and we’re going to marry one day… using the Submissive Clause.”

“The Submissive Clause? I am surprised you know this, Potter,” Mr. Malfoy muttered.

“I know a lot about Pureblood culture, sir,” Harry said. Mr. Malfoy eyed Harry with a suspicious look before turning to his lord, “Is this all, my lord?” he asked.

“Yes, as well as order your house elves to come to me when Harry is gone, I have a project I need rebuilding,” Voldemort said. Mr. Malfoy nodded and walked out of the room. “Now Harry, what is so important that you needed to disrupt the meeting?” Voldemort turned to Harry.

“A while ago, my friends decided that it would be better if we teach ourselves Defense Against the Dark Arts because Umbridge is teaching us nothing,” Harry said. “I’m their teacher.”

“I see… and?”

“I uhh wanted to know how to go from here,” Harry said, “The group is called Dumbledore’s Army.”

Voldemort smiled thoughtfully at this, “Is it? Tell me… who are the members?”

“Mainly Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws who believed that the Ministry were smearing myself and Dumbledore,” Harry said. “I haven’t told a word about it to Draco.”

“I see,” Voldemort said, he thought for a moment before saying, “Act as usual, teach this class Defense—and only defense. Give them a sense that they are learning and growing powerful, however keep them helpless.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

“Is there anything else of note?”

“No, sir,” Harry said.

“Then leave,” Voldemort said, dismissing Harry.

 _Not very fatherly,_ Harry thought to himself as he took off the black robes, replacing them with his Hogwarts one before leaving, walking the manor until he was back in Draco’s room where he closed all lights and curtains, and waited in the darkest corner until the red eyes appeared.

Back in Hogwarts, it was almost dinner and Harry made his way to the Great Hall.

“Harry, there you were, where were you?” Hermione asked, looking happy, “Neville told us that he has a place where we can practice!”

“I was on a date with Draco,” Harry lied, “and brilliant! Did he show you guys already?” he asked.

“No, we were waiting for you,” Ron said, “Neville’ll show us after dinner.”

“Brilliant,” Harry smiled, and, famished, he began eating, plans for the DA, as well as plans for him and Draco floating in his head, along with his fantasies of what he’ll do to the Death Eaters when it is all over.


	19. Relax

Ch. 19

Relax

Harry wanted to be with his new friends. It was still early October, the D.A., under his father’s orders, was learning Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Harry made sure that it was just essential things, nothing too powerful right now, only disarming spells to begin with. It was a cold afternoon, and partly cloudy. Harry was outside the castle, wandering around, alone with his thoughts, when he happened to spy Blaise and Daphne, who were sitting by the edge of the Black Lake. Smiling slightly, Harry made his way to them, saying “Hello,” when he got close enough.

Blaise looked behind him, “Hello Harry,” he said, “it’s been a while.”

“I’m sorry… I just seem incredibly busy,” Harry blushed. “With Quidditch and, well, other stuff…”

“Your father?” Daphne asked.

Harry nodded. “I actually want to talk to you two about that,” he said, “I obviously know Draco’s reaction… and can guess Theo’s since I’ve been seeing him over the summer too whenever he was with Draco, but I want to know how you two feel about all of this.”

The two nodded. Daphne patted the grass next to her and Harry sat down. “It’s… strange,” she began. “I don’t know about you Blaise, but I grew up with parents who believed in You-Know-Who. I grew up kind of knowing that he’ll be back and we will have to be involved, and that my sister will marry Draco. But now… now he is back, the kid we’ve mocked and bullied for four years is his son… and on top of all that, that son will now marry Draco instead of my sister. I’m relieved, I hated the idea of a forced marriage… yet I honestly don’t know how to feel about you Harry. I mean, we barely know each other.”

“That’s fair,” Harry nodded. “That’s a bit why I wanted to come talk with you guys,” he said, “I want to fix that. I know that in the Express, it was awkward and a bit frightening—I mean, here comes Harry Potter announcing out of nowhere that he’s the Dark Lord’s apprentice and son now—along with being Draco’s boyfriend and future husband due to the Submissive Clause. And I did that thing with Parkinson… if either of you were frightened or scared, I completely understand and I’m sorry for that.”

“Thanks,” Daphne nodded, “it was a lot to take in, wasn’t it Blaise?”

“Yeah,” Blaise nodded.

“Right so…” Harry hesitated and bit his bottom lip, “Is there anything you guys want to know? I mean… to get the awkwardness away.”

The two looked at each other, “I mean, there’s a lot,” Daphne started.

“Like how can you and Draco start dating after the both of you basically bullied and argued for four years,” Blaise said. Harry blushed and nodded.

“I never thought of it like that,” he said. “I mean yeah there was a huge rivalry between us… still is I guess, but it’s more complicated than that. It really started when I started to read about Pureblood culture, this was also around the time when I was discovering that I am gay. I was experimenting, wanting to learn about myself and Draco. I guess you can say I loved him since third year and at the time when I heard about the Submissive Clause, it sounded perfectly romantic. Marrying your love, and having your love be proven superior because of your submissiveness, your willingness to submit. Obviously I didn’t know exactly what that meant at the time, but now I do and… I still love it, I’m happy identifying myself as a submissive, as Draco’s submissive boyfriend. I just haven’t been able to act on my wants till this summer. Voldemort returned, he offered to teach me as a way to get to Draco, and I took it. I became his apprentice; I was able to talk with Draco face to face—show him my love and submissiveness—and we started dating. He must have also had feelings for me, I mean we’ve been butting heads for four years, it’s hard to not have feelings for a rival like that. After that, everything basically fell into place… and just recently I’ve became a pureblood.”

Harry looked at Daphne and Blaise, waiting for any sort of reaction. Daphne gasped while Blaise raised his eyebrows. “How is that possible?” he asked.

“There was a potion, that needed my father’s blood,” Harry said. He shuddered at the thought, “It tasted horrible and afterwards I felt nothing new or changed—however I just know that I’m a pureblood now… any muggleness that was in me is now gone.”

“Impressive,” Blaise muttered. “I didn’t think you would actually go through it. Potter, you have a lot more … cleverness than I thought you would.”

Harry shrugged, “I’ll be honest, I don’t agree with my dad’s ideology, in fact I’m completely against it. However, if going along with it for now gets me where I want to be, then so be it.”

“And where is that?” Daphne asked.

“A secure and loving home… as Mr. Harry Malfoy,” Harry said sincerely. Daphne laughed and shook her head.

“Sorry, sorry—you just sound like a little girl saying her dream is to get married,” she said.

Harry frowned, “I mean I have other dreams but… I never had a secure home where I felt I’ve belonged. As twisted as it sounds, I have that with my dad and Draco, even if my father is an insane murderous maniac.”

An awkward silence fell upon them. Harry felt a little bad and bit his bottom lip, “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” Daphne said, “it’s just… weird times.”

“Weird times,” Harry nodded in agreement. “I never thought I would be with Draco.”

“Who would you date then? If you weren’t with Draco,” Blaise said.

Harry thought for a moment, “Theo maybe, though Ron does have a crush on me,” he said, “however he just seems like a bottom too if I’m honest, and I don’t ever want to Top. I don’t know who else in this school is gay, only us four… seven, there’s the Weasley twins and Cedric.”

“Diggory and those pranksters huh?” Blaise said.

“Wasn’t Flint gay?” Daphne asked, she turned to Harry and said, “I thought I caught him a couple times writing letters to Wood, your old captain.”

“I caught him playing with Wood’s wood,” Blaise snickered.

“Zabini!” Daphne gasped, which caused Harry and Blaise to laugh. “We’re guys!” Blaise said, “I’m sure that Harry and Draco have already done it.”

Harry’s face turned a vivid red, his thoughts going briefly to every sexual act he and Draco have done so far, before giving Blaise a sharp glare, which only made the boy laugh harder. Daphne sighed and shook her head between the two of them. “Yes well I am sure that Draco have done a lot of romantic things as well, isn’t that right Harry?”

Harry thought, “He does hold my hand a lot… but we haven’t exactly went on a proper date that doesn’t turn umm lewd. But we did have lunches together during the summer… and we were supposed to have a date during Hogsmeade but umm… some things happened,” he said elusively.

“That’s not good,” Daphne said, “that’s horrible of him and you for not having a real date!”

“I mean… it’s not like we really need one,” Harry shrugged. “We know we care for each other—”

“And who is it you care for, Harry?”

Harry turned and smiled as he saw Draco walk towards them. The blonde sat down behind Harry and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy as they kissed softly, “Hello, you looked cold,” he whispered.

“It’s a little chilly,” Harry shrugged, leaning into Draco for warmth, moving his butt to make them both a little more comfortable. “We were talking about you and me.”

“What about us, baby?” Draco asked. Harry shrugged, “Like how we don’t go on dates, even though I know we don’t really need to.”

“Well the last time we tried you bailed on me,” Draco said.

“Some things came up,” Harry said, he glanced at Blaise and Daphne before leaning towards Draco, “I’ll tell you about it later when we’re alone.”

“You better,” Draco grumbled. “But do we really need dates Harry?”

“It would be nice,” Harry muttered, “I mean… we’ve been dating for a new months already… we should have at least one date.” _And it would be nice if you say ‘I love you,’_ he added mentally.

“Honestly Draco it’s appalling that you haven’t had a proper date yet,” Daphne said, looking at him, “I mean doesn’t matter if it’s Potter or not—or that he’s been acting a little weird lately, he’s still your boyfriend right? You should date!”

“We are dating Greengrass,” Draco muttered.

“I mean like go on an actual date, Malfoy,” Daphne said.

“She’s right, you have to romance your gir—boy, Draco,” Blaise shrugged. “How you expect Harry to love you if you don’t romance him?”

“Thank you,” Daphne said, nodding along.

Harry gave a shy smile, “A date could be nice,” he said, “We could head down to Hogsmeade this weekend… shouldn’t be too crowded.”

“Alright fine,” Draco shrugged, “I still don’t see why though.”

“It’s a romantic gesture Malfoy, god,” Daphne sighed. “And you Potter—you have to be more demanding with stuff like this. If Draco was my boyfriend and he acted like this he wouldn’t be my boyfriend for long.”

Draco gasped at her, “Well just so you know Harry and I do other stuff that keeps our relationship healthy,” he said, “right Harry?”

“Yeah… but a date would be nice,” Harry looked up with a chuckling grin.

“I said we’re going on a date this weekend, we agreed,” Draco said.

“Good,” Harry smiled, he kissed Draco’s cheek, “thank you for being a good boyfriend,” he said.

Draco blushed and gave a small smile as he hugged Harry closer. He looked at the two and had a smug look as he said, “See Greengrass, Zabini, I know how to be a good boyfriend.”

Daphne just rolled her eyes as Blaise snickered. “Don’t be like that Daphne, I think you’re just jealous that you have nobody to date.”

“As if,” she said, “I’m just too busy to care about boys right now.”

“Ouch,” Blaise said. “That hurts.”

“Which reminds me actually… I just got a very interesting letter from my father, Harry,” Draco said, “when exactly did you have the opportunity to tell him about us?”

“Ohh… a couple days ago, my father needed me,” Harry blushed. “He uhh… actually took a very interesting potion. It changed his looks.”

“He did? What did it do? Make him scarier?” Draco shivered. Harry giggled and said, “No, it actually sort of fixed the damages that the Dark Arts did to him. Made him more human… he now looks like a handsome man in his fifties.”

“What did he look before?” Daphne asked curiously, “my dad never told us.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Scary,” he said, “inhuman. His face was bone-white, almost scaly, he had a reptilian look with long skinny fingers that stretched out like spider legs, a think skeletal body and red eyes that only shone with anger.”

The three were silent for a moment. Blaise looked at Harry hesitantly before saying, “Well… now you won’t be scared when you’re in trouble with him? Eh?”

Harry gave a short laugh and nodded, “Yeah, he no longer looks scary, but he still acts it at times.”

The teens shared a small chuckle. Harry looked out at the water. “I can see it, though, how people naturally gather towards him. Voldemort just gives off a sense of power that you just want to be drawn towards. It’s what got me to be his apprentice…”

“And it’s what got me drawn to you Harry,” Draco said, “believe it or not you have something similar to that. People are drawn to you Harry, for better or worse. I have for years.”

“Y-You have?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, “Looking back, it was love at first sight,” he said. “All I thought about was you and getting your attention.”

“Well, now you have all of it,” Harry smiled.

“I do indeed,” Draco chuckled. He moved his hand to grab Harry’s neck gently and he pulled him in for a long, slow kiss, their lips and tongues dancing together as their faces are pressed, eyes closed and both boys forgotten to the rest of the world. There were soft moans that only made Blaise and Daphne glance at each other. Blaise cleared his throat loudly, getting the gays’ attention. Harry blushed while Draco just sat smugly, his arms wrapped possessively around Harry.

“Well,” Daphne said, her cheeks red, “I think that Blaise and I will leave you two alone.”

“No, stay,” Draco demanded. “You two won’t leave just because I decide to show my affection for Harry.” He rested his head on top of Harry’s, the Gryffindor sliding down to be comfortable. Blaise did not move as Daphne readjusted herself. Draco looked down at Harry, “My father also said something very interesting in the letter as well.”

“Which was?”

“Not to make you angry, and we are to be wed soon,” Draco hummed.

“Ohh… that’s romantic,” Harry grumbled, “getting proposed by my boyfriend’s father in a letter.”

Draco snorted, “Well it is kind of inevitable isn’t it? With the Submissive Clause.” Harry nodded, “I guess but still why did he have to do this? Please tell me that he didn’t set a date.”

“No date, just ‘soon,’” Draco said.

“So in the end he still got his arranged marriage,” Harry sighed. He shook his head and looked up at Draco. “How soon do you think is soon?” _And how can we marry if you haven’t even said you love me?_

Draco shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Well… we can talk about this more on our date,” Harry said, “seems much more appropriate, right?” Draco nodded. _And much more appropriate for him to say ‘I love you,’_ Harry thought. He turned to Blaise and Daphne, “Sorry,” he said, “I wanted to learn more about you guys but this was mostly about me and Draco, huh?”

“A bit,” Blaise said.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated.

“It’s fine I guess,” Daphne said, “we don’t really have a lot to talk about. We grew up in Pureblood culture and have… a lot of thoughts about everything else.”

“My mother didn’t care at all about pureblood stuff and what not,” Blaise said, “We’re from a family who are perfectly good at being neutral.”

“Complicity neutral,” Draco corrected.

“Still neutral,” Blaise shrugged. Harry nodded and looked at Daphne, “Do you agree with everything your parents taught you?”

“It’s the only thing I know, I guess,” Daphne shrugged. “Purebloods are just better—I mean that’s why you became one, right?”

Harry frowned, “No, I didn’t. I had to become one so I can be with Draco.”

“But if you had the choice, you would become a pureblood, it would be better obviously than a half-blood,” Daphne said, “or a mudblood—”

Harry stood up suddenly and glared at Daphne. “Don’t. Ever. Use. That. Word,” he threatened, his hand was already holding his wand.

Daphne stared, scared, trembling a little. Blaise moved away from her as Draco watched. Harry stood there, his hand tightly around his wand in his pocket. He was breathing heavily before turning, walking away with livid strides. “Stupid fucking purebloods,” he muttered to himself. Draco immediately stood up and looked down at Daphne.

“What did I say wrong?” she asked.

Draco shook his head and ran after Harry. “I know, I know that she said that awful word—but I’m sure that it was a word slip,” he said, “Greengrass is really is one of the nicer Slytherins, I mean she is my friend—”

“Who is a blood purist! Honestly Draco, are you one as well?” Harry demanded. “Do you really think that purebloods are superior to half-bloods? To muggleborns?”

Draco hesitated for a moment. “Honest answer? I used to,” he said, “but now… honestly I feel like I’m starting to question it.”

“Good! You better,” Harry said, relaxing a little, “because it is bullshit—blood means nothing with magical powers, you know Hermione, you know that she’s the most brilliant witch of our generation!”

“As much as I hate to say it,” Draco grumbled, “she is.”

“So why can’t they see it?” Harry demanded.

“Harry you have to remember how we were raised—we were raised this way, like Daphne said it was the only way we know—I only started changing because of my time with you—and I’m sure that Theo will agree,” Draco said. “Our summer days together, well they changed us, and even though you have given up your muggleness to follow our society… I think…I… god I don’t know how to word it,” Draco said irritably.

“I think I do,” Harry said softly, “you think that the society you grew up in is wrong, in this regard. That there is no real superiority… it’s just old men and women being scared of change.”

Draco nodded.

Harry smiled, “Draco… it’s good to change,” he smiled, “you know that right?”

“I’m learning it,” Draco said, “it’s hard Harry.”

“I know it is… but you’re trying, and you’re getting there and…” Harry figured that he would try and test the waters, “and I love you for it Draco.”

Draco’s eyes widened he pulled Harry to him and hugged him tightly. “I thought I was supposed to say it first,” he muttered after a while. “I love you too Harry.”

Harry smiled, “You were taking too long,” he said.

“Sorry,” Draco apologized.

“You can apologize by talking with Greengrass and Zabini, make them see sense,” Harry said.

“That’ll be hard with Greengrass,” Draco said, “but I think I can sweet talk Blaise.” Harry smiled and hugged him.

“Thank you for calming me down,” he said.

“It’s my job as your husband, love,” Draco murmured. Harry hummed at the word. “I love you,” he repeated.

“I love you too,” Draco chuckled. “Come on, are you calm?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because if Weasley and Granger see you angry they’ll unfairly blame me, and I rather keep my looks than have Weasley try to curse me,” Draco chuckled. Harry giggled and shook his head, “I’ll explain it to them, come on.” He took Draco’s hand and pulled him forward, “since you’re here, you can help me with Snape’s essay.”

Draco gave Harry a look, “Did you even start it?”

“No that’s why I need your help, come on,” Harry said.

With a sigh and roll of his eyes, Draco allowed his submissive to pull him back into the castle. Though Harry was still angry at Daphne for her narrow views, he was happy that he and Draco took another step in their relationship, and they can finally express their love verbally to one another. He proudly held Draco’s hand in the corridors as the two made their way to the library, and for that day, Harry forgot that he was the Dark Lord’s son, he forgot that he was the leader of an underground Defense Against the Dark Arts club, and that he was also planning how exactly to get rid of purebloods who couldn’t change their views. In that moment he was Harry, just Harry, and that was all he ever wanted to be.


	20. Quidditch

Ch. 20

Quidditch

The first Quidditch Match snuck up on Harry. It was a bright and cold Saturday, and like a long tradition barely broken Gryffindor’s first match was against Slytherin. Both Harry and Draco were caught surprised by the match, Harry more so as his life suddenly became increasingly busy.

That morning, Harry arrived early to the Great Hall with the rest of Gryffindor team for breakfast. He was not surprised to see that Draco and his team was there as well. It has been a couple weeks since his… engagement with Daphne Greengrass, and while he still talked with Theo and Blaise whenever he could, Harry remained silent whenever the girl addressed him.

Draco came over, and looked a little bashful. “Hello Harry,” he said.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, said, glaring at him sharply.

“None of your business, Johnson,” Draco sneered, “just jeering to my boyfriend before I beat his team at Quidditch. It shouldn’t be hard considering you have a dangling scarecrow for Keeper.”

“Hey!” Harry jumped, up while Ron looked up miserably, too nervous to eat even a piece of toast for his first game. Draco just rolled his eyes and said, “He knows I’m joking.”

“Sod off Draco,” Ron muttered softly.

Draco shook his head, “At least I’m not wearing one of the badges the others have, give me that much at least.”

“Badges? What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Some seventh years made them,” Draco shrugged as he pulled out a silver crown badge from his pocket. “They even made a ghastly song to go with it, it’s rather annoying, they even sing it during our practice.”

He handed the badge to Harry, who read out what was etched out on it:

_WEASLEY IS OUR KING_

“What is this?” Harry asked.

“A stupid joke,” Draco shrugged. “Good news, I got Blaise and Theo to not wear it—not that Blaise would, he called it tacky.”

“I’m surprised you’re not Malfoy,” Ginny said. Draco turned to the youngest Weasley and gave a smile, “And ruin chances with my boyfriend? Heaven forbid.”

“So what? You’re just here to be a good sport and wish us good luck?” Ginny said sarcastically.

“Of course not, you don’t need luck to lose to Slytherin,” Draco drawled, he turned his attention back to Harry, “I just want to make this game more interesting is all,” he said.

“How?”

A sadistic smirk grew on Draco’s face, he held out his hand silently, and waited for Harry. He took it immediately, and looked at the others, “I’ll meet you guys at the pitch,” he said, and followed Draco.

“It’s been a while since I’ve ordered you around boy,” Draco sighed, “so I decided to make some fun for myself this match.”

Harry’s stomach flipped, he moved easily into the roll of submissive, however he was still afraid that Draco’ll try to sabotage his chances to win. “Whatever it is… Sir, it better not mess with our chances to win.”

“Of course not Harry, I’ve never played dirty,” Draco said. Harry gave him a look, which caused Draco to add, “this year, I’ve never played dirty this year. Besides this will be very pleasurable to you, boy.”

“Oh really?” Harry chuckled. Draco just smirked and led Harry to the nearest bathroom. He casted a locking spell on the door after making sure they were alone and turned to Harry. He bit his bottom lip, “So,” his hand went into his pocket and pulled out a small black plug, “I want you to try this on, and keep it in you the entire game,” he ordered. “If it hurts too much, then I have another order in mind.”

“Okay,” Harry said, his cheeks blushing as a heat grew inside him. He reached out for the plug but Draco stopped him.

“I’m putting it in, boy,” he said, “take your pants off and bend over.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry said. He slipped his shoes off before taking off his robes and pants, leaving him in only his shirt and tie. He turned around and bent over, presenting his perky ass and hole to Draco. Draco’s breath hitched at the sight and licked his lips. “Have you ever played with yourself down there?” he asked.

“No,” Harry said. “Isn’t it dirty?”

Draco chuckled, “Only if you don’t know the right spells.” He took out his wand and pressed the tip against Harry’s tight hole. He bent forward, his body pressed against Harry’s and whispered a spell in Harry’s ear. Harry gasped, his butt felt wet for one second before becoming dry and slightly loose. “That was a cleaning spell Harry,” Draco whispered, “and this spell will make you wet like a girl. Theo taught me this.” He whispered another spell.

Harry’s hole became wet, feeling a little odd and squishy. Draco pocketed his wand and pressed a finger against Harry’s hole. It opened for him, and Harry moaned as he felt Draco’s finger penetrate him. “God you’re so tight and warm,” Draco groaned. He pushed deeper, curling his fingers, searching. Harry gave out a series of gasps and groans as the intrusion hurt, it felt wrongly weird, he felt like he really needed to use the bathroom, but was too afraid that he would dirty Draco’s finger. “I’m—I’m clean?” He groaned.

“Yes Harry,” Draco said.

“Hurts.”

“Relax boy, I’m doing it slowly,” Draco said. He added a second finger and continued to twist and pump inside Harry, a wet slick noise coming from his hole. The weirdness continued on and on, but before Harry could protest, Draco’s fingers were removed, and something bigger, colder, replaced it. “Perfect fit,” Draco said, “It slid right in.”

Harry’s muscles tightened around the butt plug. It felt weird. He straighten up and took a couple steps, experimenting. “Feels weird,” he muttered.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Draco asked.

“Good weird,” Harry said.

“Then you’ll keep it until the game is over,” Draco commanded. “Should be quick enough, everybody knows I will get the snitch first.”

“In your dreams,” Harry said. He walked around, getting used to the feeling of being plugged, before putting his pants back on while Draco washed his hands. “This plug will be out in twenty minutes,” he said, “when _I_ get the snitch.”

“And what should you get if you win?” Draco asked.

Harry smirked, “Winner gets a blow?” he said.

Draco turned to Harry, “That’s not very submissive, or Dark Wizard of you Harry,” he chuckled.

“Can’t we just be teenagers for a day?” Harry asked.

Draco laughed and held out his hand, “Fine then Harry, as you so eloquently put it, Winner gets a blow.” Harry grasped Draco’s hand and they shook. Draco pulled Harry suddenly and their lips met in a quick kiss, “I’m going to enjoy it,” he growled.

“Oh I’ll make sure you will, I’m smaller than you so should be easier to swallow,” Harry smirked. Draco gave him a look that caused Harry to laugh. “See you on the field,” he promised, and walked out.

Soon, the stands in the Quidditch Stadium was full. Students filled the air with cheers as both teams mounted their brooms and, at the sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle, they were off!

The balls were released and out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron streak off toward the goal hoops. He zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco was doing exactly the same. Sitting on his broom, Harry barely noticed his plug as he was too focused on the game.

“And it’s Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years but she still won’t go out with me—”

“JORDAN!” Professor McGonagall yelled.

“Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she’s ducked Warrington, she’s passed Montague, she’s—ouch—been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe. …Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and—nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that’s a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverses passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet’s away—”

Lee Jordan’s commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the win whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing—

“—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger—close call, Alicia—and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what’s that they’re singing?”

And as Lee paused to listen the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

 _Weasley cannot save a thing,_  
He cannot block a single ring,  
That’s why Slytherins all sing:  
Weasley is our King.

 _Weasley was born in a bin,_  
He always lets the Quaffle in,  
Weasley will make sure we win,  
Weasley is our King.

“—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!” Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knee Lee was trying to drown out the sound of the singing, “Come on now, Angeline—looks like she’s got just the Keeper to beat!—SHE SHOOTS---SHE—aaah…”

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer an nearer Ron—

 _Weasley is our King_  
Weasley is our King  
He always lets the Quaffle in  
Weasley is our King!

Harry could not help himself; Abandoning his search for the Snitch, he turned his Firebolt toward Ron, a long figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him…

“—and it’s Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he’s out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—”

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

_Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring…_

\--“so it’s the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team—come on Ron!”

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide an the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron’s central hoop.

“Slytherin score!” came Lee’s voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. “So that’s ten-nil to Slytherin—bad luck, Ron…”

The Slytherins sang even louder:

 _WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN_  
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN  
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN  
WEASLEY IS OUR KING!

Harry realized that he had been stationary in midair for more than a minute watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, he went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus now thundering through the stadium:

_WEASLEY IS OUR KING  
WEASLEY IS OUR KING_

There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Draco was still circling the stadium just like Harry. They passed midair around the pitch going in opposite directions and Harry heard Draco yelling loudly, “SHODDY LYRICS!”

Harry zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Slytherin goal hoops, willing himself not to look at what was going on at Ron’s end; as he sped past the Slytherin Keeper, he heard Beltchley singing along with the crowd below,

_WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING_

“—and Pucey’s dodged Alicia again, and he’s heading straight for goal, stop it Ron!”

Harry did not have to look to see what had happen; There was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, Harry saw the pug faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherins supporters who were roaring:

_THAT’S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING:  
WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch, a few goals and they would be in the lead as usual. Harry assured himself, bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague’s watch strap. …

But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry’s desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly…

Gryffindor scored seconds later, it was now forty-ten, and Harry saw Draco dive suddenly. It was then that he saw it at last—the Snitch! The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Draco, who was nearer. Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Draco were now neck and neck …

Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching toward the Snitch … to his right, Draco’s arm extended too, reaching, groping…

It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds—Harry’s fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball—Draco’s fingernails scrabbled at the back of Harry’s hand—Harry pulled his broom upward, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval.

They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor has won—

_WHAM!_

A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of his back and he flew forward off his broom; luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch’s shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina’s frantic voice.

“Are you all right?”

“’Course I am,” Harry said grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming toward one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was at this angle.

“It was that thug, Crabbe,” Angelina said angrily. “he whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you’d got the Snitch—but we won, Harry, we won!”

“Of course, it’ll take more than a bloody Bludger to hurt you,” a voice sneered. Harry turned around to see that Draco has landed close by, his face contorted in anger, not at Harry, but at Crabbe. “What was that idiot thinking?” he went on, “He would have to do better than that to even think of hurting you—of course he would then answer to me.”

“Very funny Malfoy,” Angelina said, “how do we know that it wasn’t you who told Crabbe to do that!”

“You must be joking,” Draco sighed. He strolled towards Harry as the rest of Harry’s team landed one by one. Except for Ron, who dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and was making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone. “Turn around,” he ordered, ignoring the looks from the Gryffindors.

Harry did so and Draco looked at his back, “I think I did more damage to you when we’re snogging,” he muttered.

“Malfoy!” Harry warned.

“Oh shut it,” Draco said, “Congratulations, you’ve won…” He looked both happy and annoyed as Harry turned around. “You want your reward here or somewhere else?” he asked. Harry’s face went red and muttered vile things at Draco.

The Slytherin just shook his head and took a step back, “If you want to know, those lyrics was more of a collaborations,” he drawled, “Pansy, Greengrass, and a couple others made it.”

“Daphne!?” Harry gasped. Draco nodded. “Well—what did you do?” he demanded.

“Me? Nothing,” Draco said, “I didn’t think they would actually do it—besides it was about Weasley, not you.”

“Ron is my friend—”

“I know, but like I said, I didn’t think they would actually do it,” Draco shrugged. “But now they did…”

“What? You asking for permission, Malfoy?” George said.

“Actually Weasley, yes I am,” Draco said, “Since apparently I’m one of the few _nice_ Slytherins who wants to win a game without resorting to singing a horribly written song…”

“Was Theo singing it? Blaise?” Harry asked.

“Theo doesn’t even go to these games,” Draco said, glancing at Harry. “And Blaise is with me, thinking the lyrics are shoddy.” He turned to Fred and George and gave a big, fake polite smile, “So Weasleys, do I have your pretty permission?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Draco said, he kissed Harry’s cheek and strode away. Fred and George looked at Harry, who turned back to his team, red-faced.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“What for?” Fred asked.

“And here I was thinking Cedric was weird at times,” George said, and the team returned to the changing room, where Ron was already changed, sitting by himself.

Harry moved to him.

“I’m rubbish,” Ron said gloomily.

“No you’re not,” Harry said.

Ron just looked at him for a second before standing up and walking away.

 

Lord Voldemort was by himself, sitting in the fireplace, still admiring his new looks when the door to his room opened, and two men in black robes walked in. “Macnair, tell me of your journey,” he said, not looking at the two.

“My Lord,” Macnair said, if he was shocked by Voldemort’s change, he did not show it. He and the other knelt before approaching him. “We have the Giants. They will fight for us.”

“Good, no meddling from Dumbledore or the Ministry?”

“None, Dumbledore’s mutt was there, along with the headmistress of Beauxbaton,” Macnair said. “They got there before us, started giving them gifts like you told us to. So we started as well. Luckily it seemed the guy we were friendly with killed the one the mutt and woman befriended. He liked a lot about what we told him, your promises and all.”

“We couldn’t find them though, we spent nights looking for where they camped, didn’t see them,” the other said.

“I see… then how did you know that Hagrid and Madame Maxime was there?” Voldemort demanded.

“We heard it from the leader after he ripped the other one’s head off,” said Macnair. Voldemort was silent, Macnair looked worried, but the Dark Lord just motioned for him to continue. “So after a few days, we’ve got the giants’ trust. They killed the ones who didn’t want to come with us and after that we left.”

“I see,” Voldemort said, “and this took you more than three months to complete?” he asked, his eyes slowly blackening.

“Err no, I mean yes, I mean—”

“I have heard that Madame Maxime has returned to her school long before terms even started,” Voldemort said, “If she was with Hagrid, and they left at the same time, then why am I just hearing of this now?”

“I-I, I didn’t mean to delay, my Lord, I swear—”

“Then why have you reported to me the situation of the giants now than when you’ve returned a month ago?” Voldemort asked.

Macnair froze, his face paling dramatically. The Dark Lord stood to his full height and turned to face them. “I’ve heard that the Ministry’s Executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures has been seen and heard galivanting bars in London. ‘Surely, it would not be Walden Macnair,’ I have thought to myself, ‘for he is loyal to me.’”

“I am, my lord, I am loyal,” Macnair said, falling to his knees. “Mercy please, I could not find you—I did not know where to find you my lord, I swear!”

“You are an executioner,” Voldemort said slowly, “you have your uses…”

“I do my lord, and I am loyal to you, I swear,” Macnair said.

Voldemort looked down on Macnair an sneered. “For the first time I can see my son’s distain for my followers,” he said aloud. Macnair blinked, confused. “Oh yes, you were not at any summoning, which I’ve excused since I believed you were out doing my bidding, so you have not heard the good news—either of you. I have a son now, a most loyal and obedient son who is worth a hundred of either of you.”

“That—that is excellent news, my lord!” Macnair said, a frantic smile on his face.

“Yes…” Voldemort looked up at the second Death Eater, “If you wish to live, kill him.”

“My Lord! My Lord please no—”

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

The killing curse struck Macnair in his back, and the executioner fell over, dead. Voldemort looked down at the corpse and then over his shoulder. _“Dinner, Nagini.”_ A deep slithering sound hissed through the room, and out from the shadows a large thick acid-green snake, as thick as a man’s wrist and longer than any man, slithered towards the dead body of Macnair. The second Death Eater trembled but looked satisfied of obeying his lord, and living.

He took a step backwards away from Nagini, and Voldemort turned his eyes to him. “It has just come to my realization that I do not even know your name…” he said.

“My lord, my name is—”

“And so, you must be just as disposable, if not more so than Macnair,” Voldemort continued.

“My lord! You said that I could live if—”

“Yes, for I was going to kill you in that moment, but instead you have lived long enough to do your master’s bidding,” Voldemort said. He looked down at Nagini and hissed once more, _“The body there is your treat, Nagini, the one alive is your dinner.”_ The Dark Lord returned to his seat and watched the fire as the room was filled with the man’s dying screams. Soon silence replaced it, and Nagini was feeding on her kill. Needing something to keep his mind busy, the Dark Lord stood up once more, and decided that he was going to write a letter to his son. For after all, not only did he have a break in to the Department of Mysteries, a way to gain both the Dementors and his old followers to plan, but most importantly, he had to plan his son’s wedding.


	21. Confront

Ch. 21

Confront

Draco was livid when he walked into the Slytherin Common Room that night. Harry was with his friends in Gryffindor Tower, probably nursing his pride and wound that Goyle caused. Draco wanted to go after Goyle immediately, but Harry distracted him from reminding him of their bet… and Harry’s reward, which, Draco admitted, was fun for both of them. As Draco walked in, all he heard was laughter.

It was as though they did not lose at all. Groups of Slytherins were singing _Weasley is our King_ while others were huddled together, making crude reenactments of what clearly was Harry being struck by the Bludger. “Draco!”

It was Pansy. She walked happily towards him, “Shame you lost, but you have to admit that the song was good,” she smirked, “and Goyle getting Potter at the end! Priceless! I bet that next time we’ll win if we all sing louder.”

“Did you make those lyrics, Parkinson?” Draco asked. He knew the answer, but just wanted her to confirm it.

“Duh! Who else could do it?”

_SMACK_

The students near them fell silent as Draco slapped Pansy’s face, his hand stung but left a clear red print on her cheek. Tears started to well in her eyes as she stared at Draco in pure shock. “Dr—”

_SMACK_

Draco backhanded her. “You insufferable cow,” Draco sneered and pushed her to the side. The Slytherins around them protested, but Draco ignored them. _I’m dating the Dark Lord’s son,_ he thought, _they should all be bowing and begging for our forgiveness._

“Draco! What are you thinking?” Daphne demanded as he walked towards her, “you cannot act like this!”

“Like what?” Draco asked. “Like an angry boyfriend who is trying to get back at the _idiot_ who slammed a Bludger into Harry’s head? Or maybe the pissed off friend, who’s trying to be a good sport with his boyfriend’s friends but have to listen as the rest of my house act like petty, disgusting trolls? Which one Greengrass?”

“Like an asshole,” Daphne said, “Ever since you and Potter started dating you’ve just been different!”

“Different?” Draco repeated. “Different? Well, at least one of us is.” He looked around and saw Goyle sitting with Crabbe. “It’s amazing how quick you’ve seen to forgotten who Harry is,” Draco said, looking back at Greengrass. “First using the word mudblood… and now writing a song that mocked his best friend? It’s almost as if you want the Dark Lord to personally hate you.” He had a cold smile as he saw Daphne’s eyes widen in shock. He walked past her and towards Crabbe and Goyle, who both were oblivious to Draco’s entrance.

“Malfoy,” Goyle grunted, “you see what I did to Potter?”

“I did,” Draco said, “and I want to talk with you about it. Privately.” The grunt nodded and stood up. Draco led him away from the main room and up to their dormitories. The room was empty, and Draco hung back as Goyle walked in. It was also oddly dark inside, with barely enough light for Draco to see in front of him. If there was any doubt in Draco’s mind, they quickly were washed away as he faced the boy. He would not kill him, no, he knew that even if he boasted about it he could never kill anyone, but that doesn’t mean he can’t harm the idiot.

He took out his wand and aimed it at Goyle. “I have never done this before,” he said, “however I have a good feeling that I will… _Imperio.”_

Goyle’s look of surprise changed quickly to a relaxed, oblivious look. His eyes seemed to droop, and a silly smile grew on his face. “I am really angry at you Goyle,” Draco said. “You’ve harmed my boy, my precious, beautiful boy. Harry is mine, Goyle, and now I have to make sure that nobody is stupid enough to try what you’ve done again.” He shook his head. “It would have been fine if this happened during the game, after all, Harry is too good a flyer for your idiotic reflexes to hit… but after it was over? When he was celebrating? You’ve really messed up Goyle.”

Draco looked around. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to do. After all, he’s only a fifteen year old wizard, the only reason he knew the Imperious Curse was because of Professor Moody last year. “What would Harry do?” he said aloud. He looked at Goyle. “Punch yourself while I think,” he said. Goyle showed no resistance, his hands curling into fists as he started to punch his stomach over and over. Draco watched for a moment, lost in thought.

“Maybe I’ll humiliate him… as well as show as an example,” Draco said. He looked at Goyle. “Take your pants off,” he commanded.

Goyle immediately stopped punching himself and undid his belt. His pants fell down, leaving him standing in his very large underwear. Draco couldn’t help but laugh when he saw there was not even a bulge. “So small down there Goyle,” he chuckled, “no way you can please any girl with that thing.” He stared at it for a moment, before shaking his head. “I was going to do something, but just knowing that you’re so small… it’s almost humiliating enough.”

Goyle’s absentminded face turned red, showing that he was still somewhat conscious of what was happening. Draco smirked at this. “What to do…” he said, “there is no way I would dare to touch such a small thing… even my baby’s dick is bigger than yours…” Draco then got an evil idea. “Goyle… instead of beating yourself up, I want you to kneel.” Goyle did so and Draco took a step backwards. “I think you will need a more… permanent reminder of who you are dealing with.”

This required some fancy spellworked, but Draco was confident in his ability. First, he pointed his wand at Goyle’s bulge-less underwear, and started to sneer out a long, dark curse that would leave the target impotent. A haze oozed out of Draco’s wand, heavy and black, and snaked it’s way towards Goyle. It surrounded his legs and began to crawl up, being absorbed into his skin as it moved past the fabric of his underwear, setting into Goyle’s balls, killing his sperm. His dazed look mixed with pain, but Draco did not care. He continued to cast the spell, muttering the words as it came to his head naturally, as though there was a bird on his shoulder, whispering into his ear. The last of the ooze disappeared into Goyle, and the teen fell over.

Draco watched as Goyle spasmed. He felt satisfied with his work, and yet he felt it was still incomplete. What he has done would only effect Goyle, and only he and Draco would know what has happened immediately… no, Draco needed to figure a way to make sure everyone knows not to mess with his boy. “A mark? A lost finger… no, it needs to be subtle, something that can be hidden… something that can always be looked at.”

Draco’s eyes caught the back of Goyle’s hand, and he got an idea. He remembered how Harry complained about Professor Umbridge’s detentions, about the illegal quill she had him use. Harry made him swear to not do anything, but that doesn’t mean that Draco still wasn’t angry. He took his wand once more, along with a quill. The tip wasn’t very sharp, it was sharp enough to write, but still Draco needed it to be a little sharper.

“But the pain will still be good,” Draco said. He sharpened the quill and enchanted it, letting it rest tip-down on Goyle’s hand. Draco bent down and held the quill, pushing it down on the hand until it pierced the skin, leaving a red mark that pearled blood. He let go and moved his wand so that he was holding it like a quill and began writing. _I will not betray._

The quill dragged along Goyle’s hand, leaving a red mark in it’s trace. Draco continued to write the sentence over and over, watching as the red mark grew deeper and deeper until it barely started bleeding. “There, that should be enough,” Draco said.

He stood up and pocketed his wand, he’ll allow the spells’ effect to wear off naturally. As he turned to leave, he could have sworn he saw red, but when he looked again, he could only see the usual nighttime darkness. Shrugging, he left Goyle where he was and left the dormitory, ignoring Daphne and Pansy, and sat down next to Blaise. “Where’s Theo?” he asked casually.

“Out walking, what were you doing with Goyle?” Blaise asked.

“Just making sure he doesn’t forget something.”

 

“You know, it’s freezing out here, and you’re still in your Quidditch gear.” Theo was out on a short walk, needing fresh air from the small-minded Slytherins downstairs, when he saw a redhead walking solemnly.

Ron looked up and gave an empty look at Theo. “What do you want?” he muttered.

Theo shrugged and looked around; it was a cloudy, cold night. “Just wanted to walk around for a moment,” he said, “believe it or not, Slytherins can be insufferable at times.”

“Oh really?” Ron drawled.

Theo ignored it and moved towards Ron. The redhead stayed still, so when he was next to Ron, Theo looked around. “Well, if you intend to stay out here, you could at least give me company.”

Ron gave him a sharp look, which caused Theo to sigh again, “Believe it or not Weasley, I’m one of the good ones. That stuff they did back then? I wasn’t a part of it… in fact would you believe I had no knowledge of it?”

“No, you’re a filthy Slytherin,” Ron said, “all of you are the same.”

“Are we now?” Theo asked. He moved towards a nearby bench and sat down. He took out his wand and made a floating fire. “I suppose we all are in some way,” he hummed, patting next to him. “After all, apparently we all have ambition, which is an evil trait at times.”

“You’re all slimy gits,” Ron muttered, “You’ll do anything to get what you want—and don’t care for anyone.” He sound angry, but still sat down next to Theo.

“That can be said about most of us, yes,” Theo said. “Crabbe and Goyle are both impartial to taking bathes… but they are too stupid to care for anyone, most of them in fact. They listen to what their parents say and accept it at face value.”

“What? I guess you’re different?” Ron asked.

“In a way, yes,” Theo said. “Unlike Draco, who was a prat before Harry intervened, I hope you like me using your words, I have always questioned everything around me… especially my parents.”

“Why is that?” Ron asked, smiling softly at Theo insulting Draco.

“Simple, because I hate them,” Theo said simply. “My parents, I mean.”

“But they’re your parents,” Ron said, “how can you hate them?”

“I just do,” Theo said, “look Weasley—Ron, I don’t want to go into very personal or intimate reasons. Long story short is that my parents have this narrow view of how my life is supposed to go, but I can’t … and won’t follow it.”

Ron was silent and just shrugged. A silence fell over them. Ron just sat, awkward and down-looking, while Theo watched him. “You know, you’re right, it was a slimy thing they did during the game,” he said. “Pure disgusting.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know about that,” Ron said accusingly.

“I did,” Theo said. “I did not know that they would actually do it—nor was I watching the game. Instead I have heard of them planning, making up that stupid song with it’s awful rhymes. It was I who told Draco, who in turn told both you and Harry earlier today.”

“So?”

“So… in that way, I am not like those other slimy Slytherins,” Theo said. “And thank god for that. Could you imagine? Being so stupid.”

Ron just looked at Theo. “All of you are stupid, stupid and vile and slimy gits,” he muttered darkly.

“Then, I must be a vile and slimy git then, since I am not stupid,” Theo said, “I also must then just be slimy, since I did tell Draco about that song, who did give you and Harry prior warning, though it was inefficient.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop them?” Ron asked. “You knew about the song—why didn’t you or Malfoy try to stop them?”

“You try stopping your entire House to do something,” Theo said. “Anyway, your team won, correct?”

“Yeah… but only because Harry got the snitch,” Ron said, “I’ve let four scores in… and looked like a bloody fool.”

“I can imagine,” Theo said. “Then again, I’ve never was good at flying myself. You should be confident that you have that, at least.”

“Like it means much,” Ron muttered darkly.

“Ron, can I call you Ron?” Theo asked. Ron did not move so he continued, “Ron, you’ll find that you can’t be good at everything—”

“I’m good at nothing!” Ron burst out. “I’m not even good at bloody Quidditch when everyone in my family is!”

Theo frowned, and nodded, “I see,” he muttered, “so it’s not just the bullying… Ron, you can’t constantly compare yourself to your family. You’ll always end up being upset.”

“What do you know?” Ron seethed, “you hate your family.”

“True, but I know that I shouldn’t compare myself to them, I am on my own path taking my own time.”

Ron just mumbled something to himself in response. Silence followed again. Theo moved his wand so that the ball of fire would dance between the two of them, spreading its warmth around. “Curiously, what does Harry tell you about Draco Malfoy?” he asked.

Ron frowned, “What about him?” he muttered.

“Well they are dating, and it is very serious,” Theo shrugged.

“How serious?” Ron asked.

Theo just gave him a knowing look, “Very serious, I’ve never heard the great egotistic prat Malfoy speak so kindly about another person. Then again, he always was obsessed with Potter.”

“That so…” Ron said. “Harry keeps talking ‘bout Malfoy too, saying that he’s changing.”

“Well he is,” Theo said.

“I don’t see it.”

“You’ve never given him a chance,” Theo said. “Did you hear, that both he and Harry were mad at Daphne Greengrass?”

“No?”

Theo nodded. “Harry was sitting with Blaise and Daphne, actually being civil, when Daphne said the ‘m’ word, you know the one.” Ron nodded, his eyes widening in slight shock. “Well, from what I heard from Blaise, both Harry and Draco were yelling at her. Harry stomped away, and afterwards Draco continued yelling at the girl when he came back.”

“She deserves it,” Ron muttered.

“She did,” Theo nodded. He chuckled, “you should have seen the looks on her and Parkinson’s faces, it was as if Draco had just declared his love for a muggle.”

“Harry didn’t tell us that,” Ron grumbled, “just that he had a fight with some Slytherins, but it wasn’t Draco.”

“Well, that’s our Harry isn’t it?” Theo said, “he has so many secrets to keep nowadays, doesn’t he?” Ron looked at him suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean it’s normal, isn’t it?” Theo said, “Being a gay teenager in a straight world. We can try and act that we’re all progressive but at the end of the day, the world’s out to get us. …I should know.”

Ron stared at Theo for a long moment. “You mean you…”

“Yes, Weasley,” Theo nodded. “How does that make you feel?”

Ron bit his lower lip. “Same as usual… I… I think,” he looked hesitant and gave a low sigh, “why am I even talking?”

“Just say it,” Theo said in a soft tone.

“I like both… you know… guys and girls,” Ron said.

Theo nodded, “I just like boys,” he said, “Same as Harry. But bisexual… that’s another thing you have in common with Draco it seems.”

“I don’t have anything in common with Malfoy!” Ron said.

“Sure,” Theo smirked, “anyway… if you want someone to talk to about all this… I’m here, if you want, and if you don’t want me, then I know someone else.”

“Who?”

“Cedric Diggory,” Theo said, “from what I heard, he’s dating your brothers now.”

“Oh…” Ron blushed. “Yeah…” he looked at Theo, his eyes were no longer sad, but instead they shimmered slightly. “Uhh thanks… I’ll uh… I’ll talk to him—and you, if you want.”

“I did offer,” Theo chuckled.

“This doesn’t mean we’re friends though,” Ron said, snapping from whatever daze held him. “Understand?”

“Of course,” Theo nodded. “We are just acquaintances who are share a similar friend.” He stood up and turned to face Ron, “and with that, I think it’s best for you to head back to Gryffindor Tower.”

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Because it’s late—here, take out your wand,” Theo said, taking out his own. Ron stood up and took out his wand. Theo pressed his wand against the fire and moved it towards Ron’s. “There… that should keep you warm,” he said, “when you want to extinguish it, just tap your wand like so,” he gave his own wand a gentle tap. Good night Ron,” he said.

“Uh night… Nott…”

“Theo.”

“Huh?”

“My name.”

“Oh… goodnight Theo,” Ron said, his cheeks flushed slightly. He watched as Theo walked away, back into the castle. “I guess he’s not too bad… for a Slytherin,” he muttered to himself when he was sure he was alone. Keeping the warm fire close to him, Ron started to walk back, his icy thoughts and feelings melting away with each step.


	22. Confessions

Ch. 22

Confessions

It was as if Professor Umbridge simply did not exist. Oh yes she was still there; horribly teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, giving Hagrid a horrible review when he taught Harry’s class about threstrals, the demonic looking horses that Harry saw pull the carriages at the beginning of the year, and all in all being a general menace to Hogwarts. But none of that mattered to Harry surprisingly. After all, he had more dangerous stuff to worry about. Particularly his father, and the wedding he was planning for Harry and Draco.

December came quickly, arriving with it a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth years with its snow. Harry had found that the shadow walkers were much more useful as the daylight became shorter and shorter. It was them who told Harry of Draco’s actions on Goyle, and their influence on Draco as they did so. Not that he told Draco about this, Harry wanted his man to be proud of his actions.

It was the weekend currently. Two weeks until the Christmas break starts, and Harry once again found himself walking in darkness. He expected his father to be angry, or in pain, or perhaps causing pain, but instead as light encompassed him suddenly, his eyes adjusted to a surreal sight. Lord Voldemort, old and handsome, was dressed rather casually, a warm sweater and heavy cloak, as he and Mrs. Malfoy sat at a table, looking over various opened ledgers, books, and plans. Voldemort looked up and said, “Good you are here… where is Draco?”

“I’m sorry?” Harry said, confused, “I thought you were hurt—”

“No, no, I am not hurt,” Harry’s father said. “I just wanted to talk to you and Draco about seating arrangements and procedurals… I’ve thought I had the shadow walkers summon him too.”

“They’ve never appeared for him…” Harry said slowly.

“No matter, you will do,” Voldemort said. “Come.” Harry did not know how to feel, he had just gotten use to the idea of Voldemort being his father but seeing him so casually… and doing something normal humans do, it the scariest thing Harry has ever witness in his life. He walked slowly, not even saying hello to Mrs. Malfoy until he was right against them, and even then it was curt as he had no past experience with the woman.

“Hello Harry,” she said in a business tone, as though doing her best not to judge Harry. “We are talking seating arrangement.” She indicated to the chart in front of them. Harry looked at it. It was a list of purebloods, many of whom Harry knew and hated, most of them followers of his father. “Everyone will be there,” Mrs. Malfoy continued. “Now, we are working on where to seat your friends…”

“I don’t see any of my friends here,” Harry said before he could think.

“Nonsense, I am talking about your appropriate friends, not those disgusting rabble my son have written to me you surround yourself with,” Mrs. Malfoy said coldly. Harry glared at her.

“Well it would be shock then to find out that Draco is actually friendly with those ‘disgusting rabble,’” he said, “In fact just yesterday he and Hermione were having a friendly argument over Potions.”

Mrs. Malfoy stared at Harry, “Even so none of them will be there, so it is pointless to think of them,” she said. “Now, about your good friends. Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott will be seated nearby, with Daphne’s younger sister, Astoria. During the dancing portion, you and Draco will have a dance each with the three girls—”

“Why?” Harry asked, looking at his father. “I’ve sent you the letter about Daphne yes?”

“I don’t recall every single small instant of your life Harry,” Voldemort said, “Her father is a faithful follower, as with all of their parents—”

“Except for Mrs. Zabini, she is a neutralist,” Harry said. “And I will not allow either Daphne nor Pansy to be here.”

“Unacceptable—”

“Let him speak,” Voldemort said, looking at Harry, “And why is this?” he asked, his eyes growing sharp.

“I still have not forgiven Daphne for her disgusting disregard and behavior she has chosen to show against my friend Hermione,” Harry said. “She called her a mudblood! And acted as if it was nothing wrong.”

Mrs. Malfoy moved to speak, but Voldemort stopped her.

“This goes back to your ideals,” he stated. Harry nodded. “I see,” Voldemort said. He looked at the plan, “Well if we are to stick to your ideals Harry, then there would be no one to attend the wedding ceremony.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Harry asked.

The Dark Lord sighed and shook his head. He looked at Mrs. Malfoy. “Leave.” She stood up at once and left the two alone. “You know Harry, I am delaying plans for this wedding,” he said. “I will not lie, this is more of me flexing my power and control over my followers, however it still is supposed to be a ‘special day’ as Narcissa puts it. My followers will be there, the union between my son and the Malfoy heir will be seen as an aspiration to them. They will think that through hard work and loyalty, they will be as trusted as the Malfoys. Though of course none of them will be.”

“Your followers,” Harry said darkly. He looked up at his father, a rage burning behind his eyes. “I hate them.”

“I know,” Voldemort said.

“I want them all to disappear,” Harry said.

“And you will probably make them one day,” Voldemort said, “however the wedding will not be that.”

Harry looked up at his father, silently challenging him. They were both silent for a moment Harry looked down at the wedding seating. He picked up a quill and started crossing names out. Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, their parents, the Crabbes, the Goyles, the Carrows and Yaxley. When he was done, the only names who weren’t crossed off was Blaise, Theo, their parents, and the Malfoys. He looked up at Voldemort.

Voldemort returned his stare, took the quill from Harry’s hands, and wrote to the side several more names: _Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, Travers, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Mulciber._

“Who are they?” Harry asked.

“My most loyal followers,” Voldemort said. “They did not run nor act to repent. Instead they were sent away to Azkaban, where they wait for my return. Their escape is delayed for your wedding.”

“Your most loyal…” Harry repeated. Voldemort nodded. “Then they are your most foolish followers, father,” Harry said.

“How so?” Voldemort asked, both amused and offended.

“Because they were caught,” Harry said. “Wouldn’t the most useful allies be the ones who don’t get caught?”

“Perhaps, but they have shown loyalty over self-preservations,” Voldemort replied. “My followers in Azkaban are my most ruthless, and most loyal followers. They are the ones who would die for my cause… for our cause.”

“Your cause,” Harry countered. He took the quill, and like before he crossed out each name, one by one. “You are my father,” he said, “you have taught me many things… you’re the reason why I’m with Draco in some ways, but I will not tolerate your followers.” He expected Voldemort to be angry, to lash out, instead there was only a cold smirk.

“So you will kill all my followers Harry? Do not back down, you have almost killed me, and you would have killed the Unspeakable in the summer. Do not deny it, I know it is true. Your hands are stained, but still you have not killed,” Voldemort said. He looked back at the plans before them. “So tell me… who will you kill first?”

Harry felt an icy chill blow over him. He looked from the list to Voldemort, his mouth gone dry. The Dark Lord was silent, looking at Harry expectantly. Harry licked his lips and looked. “Who… who is your most dangerous?” he asked.

“That is not how it goes, Potter,” Voldemort said. “Who will you kill first? You are to provide to me a name.”

Harry shuddered. He swallowed. His eyes moved quickly from name to name, trying to pick one, anyone, for he had a feeling he knew what would happen once he said it. Voldemort would undoubtably summon him or her to them right now. So he could do the only thing he could, and picked a name from those still in Azkaban. “Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Lestrange? Interesting,” Voldemort said, “One of my more foolish followers as you said, why not Yaxley or Nott? Both of whom are out and provide me with information? Or Severus Snape, my spy who tells me all of Dumbledore’s plans?”

Harry hesitated. “Because… because… you said it yourself,” he tried to sound calm, “they would die for you, and they are dangerous.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort said. He looked from Harry to the seating chart. “It must be exhilarating, thinking of the plunge, knowing that once you’ve taken that step you can never go back. I’ve killed when I was your age Harry. I know what it feels like, the power, the control… the chaos. You want to kill all my followers Harry? I cannot help but wonder, how will you handle the circumstances?” He chuckled coldly as Harry just stared at the names. He took a deep breath, pushing down any fears he may still have, and looked at his father.

“I will handle it well,” he said. “And when I cast the Killing Curse, I will make sure not to miss.”

“Good, for unlike me Harry, my followers will fight back,” Voldemort said. He looked down at the seating chart for one final time. “I believe I will take all of this into consideration. For now, that is all I need of you. You are dismissed.”

Harry frowned. He did not like being dismissed so emotionlessly. He moved away from his father and the wedding plans, when an idea move into his head. His father and Mrs. Malfoy were planning a wedding ceremony full of people Harry hated, and as he and his father just talked about, wanted to kill. No, will kill Harry reminded himself, the grim reality of his words not yet setting into him. So, why not hold a ceremony just for him and Draco? Where the people he wanted to be there would be there, and those who don’t will not?

This thought brought a smile to Harry. It would be small, very unofficial obviously, but to him it did not matter. He just needed to convince Draco of it, which seemed to be a very easy task. It was still early in December after all, plenty of time to plan something small before the real thing.

 

Ron didn’t know what he was doing. He still felt weird about himself and Theo. It has been a couple weeks, and a few more Quidditch matches, and somehow after each one Ron found his way to the Slytherin. They talked, yes, and just talked. He did not know how to process it, how to feel about it. Every time they meet, Ron only thought more about his confusing feelings, and how he should talk to Cedric.

He was only delaying it until now. Which was how he found himself the basement of Hogwarts, notably different from the dungeons Ron found. It was warmer, merrier, and did not suck the life and will to live with each step. He was looking for Diggory but had no luck. Wanting lost, Ron only stopped when he heard a voice behind him, “Excuse me, can we help you?”

Ron turned to see first year Hufflepuffs looking up at him. “Yeah, I’m looking for Cedric,” Ron said gruffly. “Diggory.”

“Ohh him! He’s the very tall seventh year,” one of them said. “He’s in the common room!”

“Right,” the other nodded. “I’ll go get him—can you wait here mister?”

“Mister?” Ron repeated, “I’m no mister!” he looked offended, but the first years already ran off. Pouting, Ron waited in the corridor for the first years to return five minutes later with Cedric following them.

“Hello Ron, it’s been a while,” Cedric said with a smile, “how can I help you?”

“I uh need to talk with you,” Ron said, glancing at the first years, “alone.”

Cedric chuckled and looked at the two first years, “Thanks, you can go now,” he said. He turned to Ron when they were alone, “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

Ron’s face went red. “When did… when did you realize you like guys and girls?” he asked bluntly.

Cedric chuckled, “Blunt like your brothers,” he said, “I like it. Well… to be honest I had a feeling I liked both for a while but it wasn’t until your brothers actually that I sort of confirmed it.”

“Ohh…”

“Why? You got a crush on someone?” Cedric asked. Ron blushed and nodded. “Who?” Cedric prodded, taking a step closer to Ron.

“Well uhh… a lot of people,” Ron blushed. “I liked… I used to… Harry,” he sputtered over his words, “Used to like Harry and uhh Hermione …. But now I like someone else.”

“Who Ron?” Cedric asked, “you can tell me.”

“You won’t tell my brothers right?” Ron asked, his face redder than his hair. Cedric shook his head. Ron took a breath, “You know Theodore Nott? He’s a … he’s a Slytherin. We’ve been… talking you know, and uhh… well with our talks I saw… see that he’s not really a slimy git like the other Slytherins and he is nice to look at and sometimes at night my, you know, agrees and—”

Cedric’s laugh interrupted Ron. It was a good-natured laugh. He placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder and said, “Well that sounds like a crush to me.”

“But he’s a Slytherin! And a boy—and they already have that song about me in Quidditch,” Ron said.

“Honestly, I would say just go for it, that’s what I did with your brothers and now I have two good boys,” Cedric said.

“Think you can show me?” Ron asked. “How you uhh got them?” Cedric looked at Ron for a long moment, testing to see if he was serious. Ron met his stare, and the Hufflepuff laughed. “I mean, I can show you what your brothers taught me, it’s all about confidence and dominance.”

“Confidence and dominance,” Ron repeated.

“Yeah, and this might help you in Quidditch too, you know, ignore the rest of those uh slimy gits,” Cedric said.

“Yeah… yeah,” Ron nodded. “Can you teach me all this?”

“Gladly,” Cedric smirked. “You know the place Harry uses for those DA lessons? We can use that… you got anything going on?”

“No,” Ron shrugged.

“That’s ‘no Sir,’” Cedric correctly in a hard voice.

“No Sir,” Ron jumped.

“See? Confidence and dominance,” Cedric smirked, “come on,” he patted Ron’s back and led him away. Ron followed eagerly, smiling happily to himself at the thought of his new lessons.


	23. Dominance

Ch. 23

Dominance

The end of the school semester was quickly approaching, and with it the last D.A. meeting before the holidays. Harry decided to bring Draco with him early down to the Room of Requirement, so that they could talk in pure privacy. As they were heading to the seventh floor, however, Harry realized that he had not once spoke to Draco about it. He stopped abruptly and turned to his boyfriend. “So there’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

“What is it?” Draco asked.

“Well… behind your back—and my father knows about this by the way—but behind your back… and mainly Umbridge’s I might have been teaching some people here Defense Against the Dark Arts…” Harry said in a bashful tone.

Draco gave him a sharp look, “You’ve been teaching?” he asked. “And you didn’t think to invite me?”

“Well—I mean it wasn’t my idea at first it was Ron and Hermione’s, mostly Hermione’s and everyone there are people who hate Slytherins—”

“So the rest of the school,” Draco said dryly. He frowned and crossed his arms. “Show me,” he commanded.

“I was—”

“No,” Draco said. He walked up a couple steps so he could be taller than Harry. He grabbed his boy’s wrist and said in a commanding tone, “Show me your classroom… as well as the shadow-walkers you keep using, boy.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry said. Draco’s hand moved from Harry’s wrist to the back of his neck, where it laid firm but comfortable. The two walked, Harry telling Draco how to get into the Room of Requirement.

Harry was glad that he decided to get there early because when the lamps burst into light he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry’s face and bearing the legend HAVE YOURSELF A HARRY CHRISTMAS!

“Since when were you so egotistic?” Draco commented. Harry frowned and looked back, “It wasn’t me Sir,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked around. “Well… I’m not helping,” He said.

Harry frowned, “Draco!”

“This isn’t my classroom, so I don’t feel like helping,” Draco shrugged. He moved to the nearest chair and sat down. Harry sighed and began taking down the baubles when an idea popped inside his head.

“Draco…”

“Yes?”

“You wanted to see the shadow-walkers, right?” he asked.

“I do,” Draco said.

“Stand by me, please,” Harry said. Draco got out of his chair and moved to Harry. Harry used his wand to take out the lamps one by one until the room was completely dark. Harry looked around for the red eyes. “Come out,” he said. The red eyes still did not appear. He frowned and looked to Draco with an apologetic look.

Draco gave an impatient sneer, “I know it was one of you who whispered that spell in my ear,” he said, “telling me how to make Goyle infertile. Come out now, Harry is my submissive, and so are you!” Still there was darkness. Draco turned to Harry and grabbed the back of his neck, “Show them your submission, boy,” he commanded.

Turned on, Harry moaned and nodded as he got onto his knees before Draco. He bowed his head and kissed Draco’s clothed cock, which he could feel pulse under his touch. Draco smirked at that and looked around. “See how your owner bows to me?” he gloated, “come out!”

Still, there was nothing but blackness. Harry could hear the subtle skittering of movement around them and looked up at Draco. “Sir,” he whispered. Draco looked down. “They’re here but I don’t think they’ll show themselves,” he said.

“Make them,” Draco commanded.

Harry nodded. Still kneeling, he looked from Draco to the darkness around them. “Come out,” he said, “Draco can see you; I do not care what my father said, you listen to me!”

From the darkness, Harry saw a pair of red eyes. It moved forward, showing itself in the shape of a black snake. It opened it’s mouth, and the Dark Lord’s voice spoke from it, “You creatures will obey me, and only me,” the recording of the voice said, “Only I can tell you who can command you, but your true master is me.”

“I do not care,” Harry replied. He looked up at Draco then back at the snake. “My master… my lover commanded me to bring you out, so I will!” Draco smiled at being called Harry’s master. He patted Harry’s shoulder and looked to where he was staring at. He saw nothing. Still the darkness did not shift. Frustrated, Harry yelled out, “I am your master’s son! His blood runs in my veins now! My will is his, and I demand that you show ourselves!”

There was more skittering, more soft noises, like an icy breeze lofting into the room. Were they talking, Harry wondered before one by one, red eyes appeared. They stared at Harry and Draco, unblinking and unwavering. Harry looked up at Draco, who stared at the red eyes. For a moment, Harry thought Draco was afraid before the teen smirked. “You will listen to me,” he said, “just as my sweet boy has told you. You’ve whispered that spell in my ear, I want to learn more. But for now, get rid of these disgusting baubles that plague this room.” Clear sounds of movement filled the room and Draco looked down at Harry, satisfied. “As for my boy,” he said. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his hardening cock. “Suck.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry moaned, turned on by the idea of the shadow-walkers watching them as they worked. He opened his mouth greedily and licked the cock head before swallowing Draco’s length whole. His gag reflex gone, Harry closed his eyes in bliss and moaned as he moved his head up and down the cock, feeling the member heat up and stiffen inside him. Moaning, Harry pushed forward until his nose was buried in Draco’s pubic hair. He breathed in the musk and smell of his lover, his brain going light as Draco’s hands pushed Harry down, holding him there. “Fuck,” Draco cursed. He kept his hands on Harry but allowed the boy to move as his own will, swallowing and slurping at the thickening cock. “You’re such a good cocksucker Harry,” Draco groaned.

Harry moaned as well, his own cock hardening but left ignored as his lips and chin were becoming wet with slobber and pre-cum. Repeated practice made Harry very adept at sucking Draco’s cock. He kept his hands submissively behind his back, only his head and neck moving as he worshiped his Sir’s… no, his Master’s cock. It slipped out of his mouth once it was fully erect and Harry began licking and kissing Draco’s balls. “Kiss them boy,” Draco grunted. “When we’re married, I’m going to breed you. Going to pump you full of my cum until you’re pregnant. You want that boy?”

“Yes,” Harry moaned. Draco smacked the side of his head harshly with his cock.

“Yes, who boy?” Draco said roughly.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry whimpered.

“Good boy,” Draco hushed, rubbing his hand delicately on Harry’s cheek. “That’s a good boy, suck my nuts… that’s it, now my cock again.”

Harry did and went back to sucking Draco’s cock, his face dirty from pre-cum and his own spit. Draco held him tightly and began to thrust into Harry’s mouth. Harry reacted and opened his throat as he learned to do and focused on moaning and breathing as Draco’s cock fucked him. Soon, with a grunt, Draco came deep inside his mouth. The hot taste assaulted Harry’s tongue and he began swallowing immediately. It was heaven to taste, Harry felt full at bliss as Draco’s cum filled his mouth and throat, he wanted more, he never wanted that delicious thick cock to stop cumming. He milked the cock with his lips and tongue, until he felt it grow flaccid and Draco finally pulled out, smearing cum that was on his cock on Harry’s lips. “Look up,” he commanded.

Covered in sweat, spit and cum, Harry looked up at Draco. “Beautiful,” Draco whispered. He pulled Harry to stand up and kissed him passionately. “My boy, my Harry, my husband,” he said.

“Yours,” Harry whispered.

They kissed as Draco fixed his pants and smiled lovingly at one another. “We’re getting married this holiday,” Harry said.

“I know,” Draco said.

“We don’t have any say in what is going on,” Harry frowned.

“I know,” Draco nodded, “I sent a very angry letter to my mother about this.” Harry nodded and looked at his boyfriend.

“Let’s have a ceremony now,” He said, “Nothing official but… just something that we have control over… you have control over.”

Draco smirked and wrapped his arms possessively around Harry. “A ceremony, huh?” he said thoughtfully. “We only have days left before we have to leave.”

Harry nodded, “I know,” he said, “I don’t want anything fancy, but just something for us.” He looked up at Draco, “My father told me that the wedding is more for him than us.”

“Of course it is, as it is more for my parents than us,” Draco nodded. “I want to be married to you, I want to posses you as my husband… but I rather when we are much older.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he said, “A proper wedding, not a thing for the Dark Lord and your parents to gloat.”

“But in the meantime, I wouldn’t mind something more private,” Draco chuckled. Harry smiled, “So we’ll do it?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Draco nodded. “We’ll have it here in fact,” he said, looking around. “Of course, none of those baubles of you will be here.”

“I don’t want them,” Harry laughed.

“Good,” Draco said shortly. The darkness around them faded away, the lanterns igniting themselves once more to reveal the D.A. room looking as it always does, without any mistletoes or baubles. “I will start planning it tonight then,” Draco said, “and tomorrow we can tell our friends about it.”

“Definitely,” Harry smiled.

“Be a good professor now,” Draco smirked, kissing Harry’s cheek.

“I will, Sir,” Harry said. Draco laughed and backed away, turning to Harry right before he reached the door. “Teach them, but make sure that I can still beat them all in a duel, especially Longbottom.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “Neville has improved a lot over the semester.”

“In that case these shadow-walkers have to start teaching me,” Draco said, looking around.

“Good luck with that,” Harry called out, and Draco left. Not ten minutes later, the others started to walk in, Luna first, followed by Ron and Hermione and Neville, with the rest filtering in.

It was a good final lesson, covering everything they have learned since the meetings began. There was some disappointment that they weren’t learning anything new, but Harry retorted that it would be useless to start something new right before the holidays begin. Just as Harry told Draco, Neville had improved beyond all recognition. Neville successfully froze and unfroze Harry three times, performing the basic spells he taught perfectly. When the hour was up, Harry called for a halt.

“You’re getting really good,” he said, beaming around at them. “When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff—maybe even Patronuses.”

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual tows and threes; most people wished Harry a Happy Christmas as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. “Draco and I are planning a little umm something before the holiday,” Harry said, getting their attention. “It’s just like a small ceremony to celebrate our relationship—because Draco’s parents are being rather controlling with it. We want something that’s just us and our friends before we’re forced to do this thing over the holiday that’s solely about Draco’s parents.”

“That sounds bad,” Hermione frowned. “They’re using your relationship for something?”

“Yeah, more or less,” Harry nodded, “So uhh I know this is last minute, but it would mean a lot if you two are there, even if you’re not… friendly with Draco.”

Hermione stopped to consider. “I mean, he is improving a bit,” she said, “And not to mention the countless apologies…”

“Alright,” Ron shrugged. “Uhh is Theo going to be there?” Hermione looked at Ron confused while Harry just nodded. “Yeah, of course he’ll be there.”

“Then uhh I’ll go… I mean it’s for you, yeah,” Ron said.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled at them both, “this means so much to me—Draco and I are going to go over it tomorrow, I’ll tell you both more when I know more, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ron nodded.

“Okay,” Hermione agreed. They finished cleaning the room and left together.

Harry fell to his bed exhausted, dreaming of teaching Defense. He was in a classroom, looking older in worn-out robes, teaching first years excitingly. The first years disappeared as the dream changed…

His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone… He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly. …It was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colors. …he was turning his head. …At first glance, the corridor was empty … but no… a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark. …

Harry put out his tongue. …He tasted the man’s scent on the air. …He was alive but drowsing …sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor…

Harry longed to bite the man… but he must master the impulse.  …He had more important work to do. ….

But the man was stirring… a silvery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt. …he had no choice. …He reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging his fangs into the man’s flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood. The man was yelling in pain… then he fell silent. …he slumped backward against the wall. … Blood was splattering onto the floor. …

His forehead hurt terribly. …It was aching fit to burst…

“Harry! HARRY!”

He opened his eyes. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat; his bedcovers were twisted all around him like a straitjacket; he felt as though a white-hot poker was being applied to his forehead.

“Harry!”

Ron was standing over him looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the front of Harry’s bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him. …He rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

“He’s really ill,” said a scared voice. “Should we call someone?”

“Harry! Harry!”

He had to tell Ron, it was very important that he tell him… Taking great gulps of air, Harry pushed himself up in bed, willing himself not to throw up again, the pain half-blinding him.

“Your dad,” he panted, his chest heaving, “Your dad’s … been attacked. …”

“What?” Ron said uncomprehendingly.

“Your dad!” He’s been bitten, it’s serious, there was blood everywhere…”

“I’m calling for help!” said the same scared voice, and Harry heard footsteps running out of the dormitory.

“Harry, mate,” Ron said uncertainly, “you… you were just dreaming…”

“No!” Harry said furiously; it was crucial that Ron understood, “I wasn’t dreaming. … not an ordinary dream … I was there, I saw it—I did it…”

“Harry, you’re not well,” Ron said shakily. “Neville’s gone for help.”

“I’m fine!” Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pajamas and shaking uncomfortably. “There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s your dad I’m worried about—we need to find out where he is—he’s bleeding like mad—I was—it was a huge snake. …”

He tried to get out of bed but Ron pushed him back into it. Whether one minute passed or ten, Harry did not know; he simply sat there shaking, feeling the pain recede very slowly from his scar. Then there were hurried footsteps coming up the stairs, and he saw Professor McGonagall hurrying into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her nose.

“What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?”

He had never been so pleased to see her; it was a member of the Order of the Phoenix he needed now, not someone fussing over him.

“It’s Ron’s dad,” he said, sitting up again, “He’s been attacked by a snake and it’s serious, I saw it happen.”

“What do you mean you saw it happen?” Professor McGonagall said.

“I don’t know—I was asleep and then I was there…”

“You mean you dreamed this?”

“No!” Harry said angrily. Would no one understand? “I was having a dream at first something completely unrelated and stupid—and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn’t imagine it. Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there’s was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone’s got to find out where he is…”

Professor McGonagall was gazing at him through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing.

“I’m not lying, and I’m not mad!” Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout. “I tell you, I saw it happen!”

“I believe you, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said curtly. “Put on your dressing gown—we’re going to see the headmaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed the ending from the book but it's worth it.


	24. Nuptials Eve

Ch. 24

Nuptials Eve

They were in Grimmauld Place. Harry and the Weasleys. Only a few hours ago, it seemed like a lifetime, they were in Hogwarts, in Dumbledore’s office telling him what happened. And now Harry, guilt ridden and silent, is sitting awkwardly in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place as he, the Weasleys, and Sirius wait for word on Mr. Weasley.

He felt guilty, angry, and useless. An outsider looking in as the Weasleys huddled together, silently holding their cups of butterbeer. Nobody wanted to talk, nobody wanted to look at anymore. Then, suddenly, a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud onto the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

“Fawkes!” Sirius said at once, snatching up the parchment. “That’s not Dumbledore’s writing—it must be a message from your mother—here—”

He thrust the letter into George’s hand, who ripped it open and read aloud, _“Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.”_

George looked around the table.

“Still alive…” he said slowly. “But that makes it sound…”

He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry too as though Mr. Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother’s letter, as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George’s hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his butterbeer bottle and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling.

If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once that they all go to bed, but without any real conviction, and the Weasleys’ looks of disgust were answers enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, now and then raising bottles to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure one another that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway. Mrs. Weasley must long since have arrived at St. Mungo’s.

Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways onto his shoulder, Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting …waiting…

And then, at ten past five in the morning by Ron’s watch, the door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron, and Harry half-rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.

“He’s going to be all right,” she said, her voice weak with tiredness. “He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now, he’s going to take the morning off work.”

Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother, and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his butterbeer in one.

“Breakfast!” Sirius said loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. “Where’s that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!”

But Kreacher did not answer the summons.

“Oh, forget it, then,” Sirius muttered, counting the people in front of him. “So it’s breakfast for—let’s see—seven …Bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast—”

Harry hurried over to the stove to help. He did not want to intrude upon the Weasleys’ happiness, and he dreaded the moment when Mrs. Weasley would ask him to recount his vision. However, he had barely taken plates from the dresser when Mrs. Weasley lifted them out of his hands and pulled him into a hug.

“I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for you, Harry,” she said in a muffled voice. “They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he’s alive and Dumbledore’s been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you’ve no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Strugis…”

Harry could hardly stand her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released him to turn to Sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. Sirius said that he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped they would all stay with him as long as Mr. Weasley was in hospital.

“Oh, Sirius, I’m so grateful. …They think he’ll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer …Of course, that might mean we’re here for Christmas. …”

“The more the merrier!” Sirius said with such obvious sincerity that Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron, and began to help with breakfast.

Harry felt sick with guilt. Slowly, he moved away from the kitchen, everyone too distracted by the good news and cooking to notice him leaving. Wandering, Harry moved up a couple flights of stairs, and into what looked like an old drawing room. There was a stack of paper and quills laying on a table, and sitting down, Harry wrote a letter to the only person he could think of.

_Draco,_

_I am so sorry that I am not in Hogwarts right now. Overnight something happened. I can’t explained it. I was dreaming one moment and the next second, everything changed. I was a snake, but it wasn’t a dream, it was real. I could still feel how cold the floor was, how murderous the snake was feeling but it had to hold it back… until it couldn’t. The snake attached Mr. Weasley… I attacked Mr. Weasley. He would have died if I hadn’t’ woke up and brought to Dumbledore. The Weasleys and I were sent somewhere safe immediately afterwards. The place where I spent my summer, with my godfather Sirius. I don’t know what any of this means, why I became that snake and what it means but I think I know where I can find out. I’m sorry that I can’t be there for our ceremony. I truly wanted something special that was just for us. I love you, and I will see you at our wedding._

_Love,_

_Harry._

Slowly, heavily, Harry folded the letter and moved from the chair. He turned to a window and closed the blinds, creating a larger shadow that took up the room. Red eyes appeared immediately. “Give this to Draco,” Harry commanded. “Do not tell my father.”

A hand, black as night and undescriptive, reached out and took the letter, its icy fingers gliding across Harry’s hand. The chill never truly leaving his hand, Harry left the room and joined the others, feigning happiness with the others. Afterwards, everyone went to bed and spent the rest of the morning sleeping. Everyone but Harry. He returned to the room, and walked into the darkest corner he could find, his thoughts and mind on his father.

“Harry, this is a surprise,” Lord Voldemort said as Harry walked into the room. The Dark Lord was behind a large desk, Nagini coiled around the chair. Harry looked at his father and saw no surprise. He knew that he was coming.

His eyes falling on Nagini, he said in a tired, angry voice, “You sent that snake, didn’t you?”

Voldemort’s eyes grew sharp. “She had a job, and she did it,” he said, “unsuccessfully.”

“She almost killed Mr. Weasley!” Harry yelled. “Your snake almost killed him!”

“So? Should I care?” Voldemort asked. “He is the enemy, a member of Dumbledore’s Order. It is a pity that she did not kill him—unless you want to finish what she could not.”

“No! That’s horrible—”

“As is war, but it still requires killing,” Voldemort said coldly. “That man was in the way, and so we had to have him eliminated. Shamefully, even after Nagini had to retreat unless she too was harmed.”

“So, you care more about a stupid snake than my friend’s dad!?” Harry demanded.

“Yes,” Voldemort said simply. Harry was livid. His fist started to shake with anger, reaching quickly for his wand. “Will you kill me now?” Voldemort asked, looking at him emotionlessly. “Now? After so long?”

Harry shuddered. He wanted to scream but was at a lost of words.

“No? Then you may leave,” Voldemort said dismissively. “If you come just for coddling and taking out unneeded anger… then you better go elsewhere, Potter.”

His nostrils flared as Harry tried to control his breathing. Glaring at the Dark Lord, Harry resisted everything inside him that told him to kill the man. To take his wand and use the Killing Curse. It would be so easy; he is so close. Harry could not miss, he is faster, younger, he could even kill the snake. Voldemort saw the hesitation and gave a cruel laugh. “If I die here… what will my followers do?” he said, “It would be easy to pin the blame on you… those who are, as you said, too stupid to turn and run will instead hunt you Harry… but I feel you would like that, wouldn’t you? After all, you want to kill them. Every. Last. One.”

“I do,” Harry admitted. He looked at his father, “I want to kill them,” he said. He thought for a moment and looked at Voldemort.

“Just as you want to kill me,” Voldemort finished for him. “But would you risk everything we have been working towards?”

“You said… that you were unkillable,” Harry said, looking up at his father. “Because of your Horcruxes.”

“I am surprised you remembered,” Voldemort smirked. “Yes, because of my Horcruxes, because of you, I cannot be killed. I am immortal.”

Harry hid his frown. Instead, doing his best to separate himself from his emotions, he kept his gaze on Voldemort. “What would happen,” he asked, “if you died… but you still had your Horcruxes?”

Voldemort chuckled. “How quickly you go from murderous to curious,” he said. “If I did know any better Potter, it would seem as though you were trying to figure a way to kill your own father.”

Harry stayed quiet to this. Voldemort laughed a cold laugh before taking a second to consider his next words. “My soul, what is left of it, will linger. I will no longer have a body, and will be like a wraith, as is when I was when I was with Quirrell.”

“You can’t go to the other Horcruxes?” Harry asked, “use them?”

“No, that would be counterproductive,” Voldemort said.

“Then what would happen if your Horcruxes were destroyed while you are like this?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Voldemort said simply. Harry waited for more explanation, but Voldemort left it there. Harry thought for a moment, trying to figure a way to learn more, but his father interrupted his thoughts by saying, “The ceremony is in a week. I suggest you take all thoughts of that man and focus on the upcoming ceremony. I will not allow you to ruin it because of your selfish, insignificant wallowing.”

Harry did his best to not let his emotions betray his thoughts. He wanted to scream at his father, to yell and curse. But instead, he just nodded silently and turned. This was as much of a dismissal he’ll get.

Back through the darkness into Grimmauld, Harry barely stepped out of the room he used when he was pulled into a body, arms wrapping around him. “Harry, I was worried.” It was Sirius. Harry collapsed into the hug, he felt like he was in deficit, and Sirius’s touch was what he needed now. He grasped onto Sirius, holding him as tightly as a child would hold onto their parent. “I was worried,” Sirius said again, “I was worried that you would take this too hard. Blame yourself.”

Harry did not answer back. He just held Sirius, and Sirius held him. It surprised the boy that he did not break down in tears, but he knew that he had to be stronger than that. Instead the two just stood in the stairway, holding each other, their warmth spreading to the other. Harry started to feel calm, safe and secure. His body relaxed, he never noticed how rigid he was when he visited Voldemort. He did not know how long they stood there, but eventually Harry looked up, his voice dry as he said, “I know.”

“You should rest,” Sirius said. “You had such an eventual night… we all had.”

Harry shook his head, “Can we stay up instead?” he asked. “And just… talk. It’s been a while, just the two of us.”

Sirius nodded and smiled at the idea, “Yeah, yeah I would like that very much,” he said. He finally let go of Harry and clasped his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “you can tell me all about Quidditch, and everything else that I’ve missed.”

Smiling, Harry nodded enthusiastically, calmer and more energetic than he has been for a long time. He felt like himself as he and Sirius made their way, looking for the most clean and cheery looking room in this dread, dreary house. “Well I have a boyfriend,” Harry began. “We’ve been dating since September but we knew each other for years, it’s going very smoothly now.”

“Oh? Well that is good to hear—have I told you about this boy that Remus tried dating?” Sirius chuckled. “They didn’t last a week, James and I thought that he did it to make us jealous!”

“No, you didn’t,” Harry said.

“Well let’s fix that now!” Sirius grinned. He went into a long, elaborate story about his schooldays with Lupin and Harry’s dad. Harry smiled genuinely as he listened and laughed with ease, interrupting now and again to comment or tell something similar that he and Draco have done. It was a happy experience for the boy, an experience that he never wanted to end.

However, Harry’s life could not always be a happy experience, or even a joyful experience, for after his time with Sirius, a miserable visit to St. Mungo’s followed afterwards, and, a week later, the most unfortunately happy sound rang miserably in Harry’s ears, as what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life was turned into a rallying point for everyone that the boy despised. And through it all, wedding bells rang.


	25. Beginning of a new End

Ch 25

Beginning of A New End

It was the day of Harry and Draco’s wedding. However, Harry’s mood was far from happy or giddily nervous. He woke up in absolute darkness, the shadow-creatures surrounding his bed. He was not surprised, or even angry. Instead he got out of his bed, put his glasses on, then walked. He arrived moments later into an empty bedroom where clothes were waiting laid out for him. It was a white wedding suit with a long back, almost robe-like. Harry frowned at it, it was something that he would never wear in his life. On the breast pocket was the Dark Mark sewn into it. Seeing it made Harry feel uneasy, both a mixture of pride and disgust. It was just another reminder that the day was not his, not truly. It was his father’s.

Next to the wedding robes was a letter, written in his father’s handwriting.

_Potter, these are the robes you will be wearing to your wedding. You shall put them on and wait for me to personally escort you to the reception room. In the meantime, food will brought to you. You are to wait in this room. Do not leave. The door is locked for your own safety. Your wedding vows, along with a speech you will be giving during the reception afterwards, are both found on the vanity table. Memorize them. Commit them to heart and recite them at the appropriate times. The wedding will begin at three, with the reception continuing immediately afterwards. Do not worry about those meddlesome fools you deceive yourself with. They will not miss you._

Harry frowned at the letter. It only made his day worse as he heard a sound at the door. “Um, come in?” Harry said cautiously at the door. It opened only for a tray to float in unaccompanied, full of food. It set itself down on a nearby table, the door closing with a small clicking sound. “Of course, nobody would be there,” Harry muttered. He sat down and stared at his breakfast for a moment before eating. He wondered what the others were doing, did they notice he was gone yet? Or that he was still sleeping. He remembered the potion he gave Ron and Hermione a few months ago and hoped that its effects would have wore off. “Either way,” he said, “I’m not leaving here until the wedding, so I might as well get ready for it. I hope Draco is having an easier time.”

 

“Harry! Ron! Wake up, Breakfast is ready!” Mrs. Weasley called out, knocking on the door. “Wake up.” She kept knocking until the door opened and Ron yawned at her, looking extremely groggy. “Finally,” she huffed. “Get dressed and downstairs,” she said, “We’re visiting your father after breakfast—and wake Harry up too.”

“Yeah, alright,” Ron yawned. He closed the door and Mrs. Weasley shook her head before making her way back down the basement kitchen. She was at the stairway when the door opened once more, Ron walking out still in his pajamas. “Harry’s already up,” he said. “He’s not in bed.”

“Well he’s not in the kitchen,” Mrs. Weasley said, “Go get dress and I’ll find him. He has to be in one of these rooms.”

Ron nodded and closed the door before he could see his mother’s worried face. Walking urgently, Mrs. Weasley made her way back to the kitchen where both Sirius and Lupin were sitting. “Have either of you seen Harry?” she asked worryingly. “He wasn’t in his room.”

“No, I haven’t,” Lupin said. “He must have woken up earlier.”

“But where would he go?” Sirius asked. “Most of the rooms here are still full of trash.”

“Either way I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough,” Lupin said, “Let’s not worry yet.”

“But what if something happened?” Sirius said. “What if he got hurt or captured?”

“No! No! I will not even think of the possibility!” Mrs. Weasley said. “Remus is right, he’ll be here soon enough for breakfast. Let’s all just calm down and relax before the children get here. Sirius, go get the plates out, will you?”

Sirius got up and helped set the table. The Weasley children and Hermione, who arrived only a day prior, arrived and sat down for breakfast. Noticing Harry’s absents, the adults shared worried looks. “Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Probably cleaning his broomstick,” Fred snickered.

“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley yelled, giving him a sharp glare.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Fred said, failing to hide his mirthful giggles. “It’s good for a Quidditch player to clean his broomstick regularly—ow!” A wooden spoon smacked his hand lightly.

“That’s enough of that talk,” Mrs. Weasley said. She gave a warning look to the twins. They all filled their plates with breakfast and Mrs. Weasley looked around. “I’ll save a plate for Harry,” she said, “Just in case he got lost. God knows that it’s a mess around here mostly.”

They started eating, Sirius, Lupin, and Mrs. Weasley glancing at the kitchen entrance every now and again expecting Harry to walk in, but he never came. They were done with breakfast, everyone having seconds, and Ron having thirds, but still Harry’s plate sat on the side, growing cold as it waited for him. “This is bad,” Sirius muttered to Mrs. Weasley.

“He has to be around here somewhere,” she frowned.

“I’ll look around while you are at St. Mungo’s,” Sirius offered.

Mrs. Weasley thought for a second before agreeing. She then looked at her children and told them all to get ready, for they’ll leave as soon as Tonks arrive.

“Where’s Harry?” Ron asked. “He didn’t show up.”

“Don’t worry about him, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Harry will meet up with us at the hospital.”

Ron looked as worried as Mrs. Weasley and Sirius were, but went to get ready either way. The adults alone in the kitchen, they looked at each other. “Should we tell Dumbledore?” Lupin asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Weasley said, “I really hope that Harry is just lost here in this house… we’ve barely started on the fourth floor.”

“But all that is on there is my room and…” Sirius stopped, looked worried and stood up quickly. “I’ll check there right now,” he said before rushing out the room. Lupin and Mrs. Weasley shared a confused look before starting to clean up. By the time they were done, Sirius came back looking a little colder. “He wasn’t there,” he said.

“Are you alright Sirius?” Lupin asked.

“I’m fine Remus,” Sirius said. “I’ll look around the rest of the house, go give Arthur my best regards, eh?”

“If you’re sure,” Remus said, looking uncertain. Sirius just flashed a smile at him and assured him that everything will be fine.

“I’ll find Harry quickly,” he said, “He’ll be at the hospital before you even realize he was missing breakfast!”

Mrs. Weasley and Lupin still looked uncertain, but they didn’t talk about it anymore. Instead they left it to Lupin to search the house as Tonks arrived, and they all left for St. Mungo’s.

 

Harry was extremely bored locked in the room. He was dressed in his wedding robe and sitting in front of the vanity table, where his vows and speech laid. Feeling miserable, he decided that he should read both, in order to just avoid his father’s wrath.

“I wish I could at least be with Draco,” he sighed as he picked up the vows. “ _’I, Harry Potter, take Draco Malfoy to be wedded as my husband. To have and to obey, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health till death do us part. I will be your servant, your lover, and your faithful and loyal husband._ _’_ My father has no sense of romance,” Harry sighed. He did not even think of his wedding vows, of what he will say to Draco when they will be married. It then hit him, how young both he and Draco are. “I want to be married but we’re so young,” he spoke to himself, looking in his reflection.

As he looked at himself he felt older. His eyes looked tired; the youthful green that shimmered now dulled. His face seemed paler, there were worry lines on his forehead and he looked unhappier. He looked more a tired adult, then a teenager. Looking away from the mirror, he picked up the speech and read it.

“ _’Thank you all for coming to my and Draco’s wedding, and thank you all even further for coming to this celebration of not only our wedding, but more importantly the return of our Dark Lord, my father. Yes, my father. I, who was once the beacon of Light for Dumbledore and all of his followers have found the error of my way, and pledged myself to our master, our Dark Lord. It was through his kindness and mercy did I survive that faithful night on his revival, and it was through his generosity that he became my teacher. Together, I have begun to learn the truth, to learn the culture and views of purebloods, of how right they are, and how strong our side and society must be in order to overthrow all who oppose us. It is with this strong belief that I followed my father’s footsteps and allowed myself the honor to becoming his son through blood. Through his blood I have cleansed my body of all impurities, becoming pure in every sense of blood and his. Now his son and heir, I am honored to take my place next to him and do my Lord’s bidding both in loyalty to him as my master and father._

“ _’It is in this loyalty that I am honored and excited to bind the Malfoy family to our Dark Lord. By tying our two families together, not only am I strengthening the Malfoy’s loyalty to our cause and Lord, but I am showing the world the future my father, our Dark Lord, will build. A world for Purebloods. A world where those who are deemed superior will be in charge, and those lesser will be in their true subservient roles. I am a Pureblood; I am part of the proud few who are worthy to rule Wizardkind and follow my father’s example. Together, everyone here will achieve greatness. But only through my father, only by following the Dark Lord shall greatness be upon us, and our natural order will be restored!’_ ”

Harry frowned and crumpled the speech in disgust. He never believed any of that. The world that his father is building is one that is furthest of what he wants. “It’s disgusting,” he said, “I only like aspects, the submissive aspects, the noble aspects of this society. The rest can burn.” He took out his wand and aimed it at the crumpled speech, smiling madly as he watched it spark and burn. When the speech was just a pile of ash, Harry checked the time to see that he had two hours till his wedding.

Standing up to stretch, Harry’s thoughts turned again to Draco and their situation. He wanted the day to be over. The last two hours seemed to drag on. His boredom was soon replaced by anxiety and nervousness. Laying on his bed for the last hour, Harry jumped up more in shock than relief when there was a loud knock on his door, and Lord Voldemort entered. “Follow me, Harry,” he said, “it’s time.”

 

Sirius was going mad. He ran around house several times, yelling at the portraits who yelled back at him, looking in every small hiding hole and room he could think of but there was no sign of Harry. With each room he looked in, the more desperate and frantic he became. “KREACHER!” he yelled, looking in the first floor drawing room for the third time. “KREACHER! Get over here you useless elf!”

There was a crack, and Kreacher appeared in front of Sirius, bowing so low that his nose pressed against the floor. “What can I do you for, Master?” Kreacher asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Did you look in all the pantries? The closets? Are you sure that you haven’t seen Harry?” Sirius said, “I swear I’ll ring you by the neck if you’re lying!”

“Never lie, Kreacher never lie. I haven’t seen the Potter boy. Not that I want to see such an ugly boy—”

“THIS IS NO TIME FOR YOUR OPINIONS!” Sirius roared. “HARRY IS MISSING AND I CANNOT FIND HIM!”

“Harry is missing?”

Sirius whirled around to see Mundungus Fletcher standing in the doorway. “Well, that’s a surprise, ain’t it?” he said.

“Fletcher!” Sirius said, “Do you know something?”

“Me? No, no, I don’t know anything about Harry,” Fletcher said.

“Then why are you here?” Sirius demanded.

Fletcher shrugged, “Can’t I just be here to spread some Christmas cheer?” he said.

“Now’s not the time,” Sirius said irritably. He pushed Fletcher out of the way into the hallway. “I need to get Dumbledore.”

“You think that’s wise?” Fletcher said, “I heard that he’s being watched a little closely.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked.

“Well with that Umbridge woman and the Ministry and stuff… Dumbledore’s a busy man,” Fletcher said.

“So? We still need to tell him about Harry!” Sirius said, “He could be in trouble for all we know!”

“Well he is a teenager,” Fletcher shrugged, “that’s what they do. When I was his age I was also deep into trouble, and a few gir—”

Sirius pushed Fletcher against the wall, his arm on his throat with his wand jabbed in his cheek. “Do not joke about this,” Sirius threatened. “My godson is missing! And you think now is the time to talk about you?”

His nostrils flared as he glared at Fletcher for a long moment. Scared, Fletcher kept his hands up until Sirius let him go and moved towards the front hall. “I don’t care if he’s being watched or not—I need Dumbledore here now!” he said. His wand still in his hand, he stood in front of the front door and opened it. Concentrating, he aimed his wand outside. _“Expecto Patronum!”_ he called out clearly. His wand burst into a brilliant light and a large wolf made of white light jumped into existence. “Dumbledore, Harry is missing. Come immediately!” Sirius said to the Patronus. The wolf Patronus gave a howl and jumped out of the house and out of sight. Sirius slumped against the wall, closing the door. “All we can do now is wait,” he said, glancing at Fletcher who was still eyeing Sirius cautiously.  Ignoring him, Sirius decided to go back to the kitchen, his throat suddenly feeling very sore from his screaming.

 

The reception room was one of the bigger rooms in Malfoy Manor. It was decorated lavishly. It reminded Harry of a church. Marble columns were erected on either sides of the room, holding the ceiling. In the direct middle of the room, lining with two huge wooden doors through which both Harry and Voldemort entered, was a dark red carpet trimmed with gold, leading between rows upon rows of eloquent seats, all glittering and balancing precariously on three legs that met in the center. On each chair sat a witch or wizard that Harry knew but hated, all dressed in their finest. Shimmering crystal bubbles and baubles floated in the air, glistening in the candlelight, and even producing their own light. Music was playing softly somewhere, and Harry was surprised to hear that it was actually sweet sounding, almost romantic. Something that would normally play at a wedding. _I guess music was Mrs. Malfoy’s responsibility,_ he thought to himself.

The carpet led down to the far end of the room, where an elevated platform was waiting, and on top was Draco, dressed in a simple, but handsome, black suit. Draco and Harry’s eyes connected and shared a faint smile. Harry focused on Draco as he and Voldemort walked up the aisle, ignoring the looks, and most likely sneers, the people were giving him. As the music died down, they reached the platform and climbed the short steps, and a second later Harry was once against in Draco’s arms.

“I missed you so much,” Draco whispered.

“I missed you too, sorry that I had to leave so suddenly,” Harry whispered back.

“I understand, don’t worry.”

Voldemort moved in front of them, and all mutters and whispers stopped. “My friends, followers,” he called out. “Today we are gathered here to celebrate the joining of my blood, my heir and apprentice, to the Malfoy Family!” Harry had to resist a sigh. He and Draco squeezed each other’s hands. “Today, my son… Harry Potter himself, whom I have stolen from the Light and bred into my own child will join in holy matrimony with Draco Malfoy, the son of my most loyal of followers.”

There was a huge commotion, that died down instantly as Voldemort raised his hands. “Silence!” He called out. “Before we move forward with this union, if there are any reasons on why this couple should not be wed today, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Voldemort paused and stared at his followers, as if daring someone to speak. Surprisingly, both Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson stood in unison, and Voldemort’s eyes fell on them.

“Sit down Pansy!” Pansy’s father said in an urgent whispered that carried throughout the room.

“Daphne! No!”

“Let us hear it,” Voldemort said, his voice sending a deathly chill throughout. “Girls, why shouldn’t Draco Malfoy wed my son?”

The room went deathly quiet, all eyes turning to the two fifteen year old girls, who stood so proudly and so confidently, as if they were about to do something spectacular. “He’s a half-blood! And a disgusting Potter!” Pansy Parkinson said.

“And he insulted my family for no reason!” Daphne said, “He made Draco slap Pansy and insult me! He is acting completely different! Potter has him entranced!”

The room stayed silent as Voldemort turned from the girls to Harry and Draco. “Boys?”

“I’ve only hit Parkinson because she was insulting Harry, and both her and Greengrass had forgotten that Harry is your son… my lord,” Draco said in a smooth voice. “I was only protecting my boyfriend’s reputation.”

“A valid reason if any,” Voldemort said, “especially since my son’s reputation reflects my own… such as actions against my son will be treated as if they were actions against me.” He paused, letting the threat linger before continuing. “If there are no more objections, we will not move onto the vows they have written for their partners.”

 _You mean you’ve written,_ Harry thought. “Draco, you will start,” Voldemort said.

Draco turned to Harry and took both hands in his. “I, Draco Malfoy, vow to take Harry Potter as my loving husband. To have and to hold, to cherish and protect, from now till the rest of time. Harry, I know that our past has been rough, but I believe that it is because of our rough past that our love will shine through, and through our marriage, it will only grow ever stronger. I promise to be the caring husband that you need, and to always be there.”

They smiled and despite himself, Harry found himself tearing, sniffling slightly. “Harry, your vows,” Voldemort said.

Harry sniffled and wiped his eyes before saying the vows that his father wrote for him, wishing that he had the foresight to add more. “’I, Harry Potter, take Draco Malfoy to be wedded as my husband. To have and to obey, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health till death do us part. I will be your servant, your lover, and your faithful and loyal husband.” He paused, Voldemort looked as if he was about to say something, but Harry continued, “I wished that I could have accepted your hand back when you first gave it to me, but I am also grateful that I refused it. We had a lot of arguments and battles… our rivalry was pretty big, wasn’t it?” He gave a cheeky grin, “but despite it all, I don’t regret a single second. I knew you more than anyone at Hogwarts, Draco, and because of that I know that we’re meant for each other. I love you so much Draco, more than the world.”

“Yes, well with vows taken, if we may present, the rings,” Voldemort said. He took out his wand and with a wave, a small pillow appeared, on which two golden rings laid. “Take the rings,” he commanded. Harry and Draco did. “Draco, slip your ring onto Harry’s finger, and repeat after me.”

Harry held his hand out and Draco slipped the golden ring on his finger, repeating after Voldemort, “With this ring I name you mine, you are my lover, my submissive, and my husband. I will take care of you, as you take care of me. Command you as you obey me. And love you as you love me.” The ring glowed on Harry’s finger, and he felt a warm sensation.

“Good… now Harry, take the ring and repeat after me,” Voldemort said.

Harry nodded. He placed the ring on Draco’s finger and said, “With this ring I name myself yours. I am your lover, your submissive, and your husband. I will take care of you as you take care of me. Obey you as you command me. And love you as you love me.” The ring on Draco’s finger glowed as Harry’s. Voldemort waved his wand around the two hands. The glow grew in strength and two small orbs trailed from the rings, hovering for a moment before following Voldemort’s wands, entwining and twisting around both hands, their trails of light dancing with one another until, with a twitch of the wand, they shot towards Harry and Draco’s chest, a warm sensation growing around their hearts.

The light began to fade until the rings grew normal. Voldemort returned his wand and spoke again, “The two are now tied as husband and submissive,” he said, “In my power, Draco, you may kiss your submissive.”

“Been waiting for this part,” Draco muttered, causing Harry to giggle before their lips smashed against one another, gliding across as the faint sound of clapping reached their ears. Their eyes slipped close, Draco holding Harry tightly as their kiss continued. When they separated, Voldemort forced them to step back as he walked between them. His wand in his hand, he gave a sweeping wave and the room changed. The seats the guests were sitting floated up, moving among themselves as tables appeared and they floated down, sitting where both Voldemort and Mrs. Malfoy planned weeks before. On the platform, a large table appeared with five chairs. Harry frowned at this, watching as Voldemort moved to sit in the center chair, Harry and Draco left to sit on one side of the table, and Draco’s parents the other.

Once everyone was settled, and food was on their plates, Voldemort stood up and silence fell once more onto the room. “My son has prepared a speech to celebrate this momentous day,” he said. He turned to Harry, and as their eyes met, an anger inside Harry snap. This was supposed to be his day, a day that came too early, but still his father made it about him. And there was no way that Harry would repeat that speech like a mindless drone.

So instead Harry stood up, he looked down at his husband and reached for his hand, holding it tightly.

“I started learning the Dark Arts not because I believe in some message or culture, but because I thought that it was the only way to get to Draco,” he began. “I first read about the Submissive Clause, and like a naive boy I fell in love with the idea. Being tied to one man, the man you love, and having your union honored above any other… it was a perfect romantic daydream for a small gay child, suffering in a tiny room or cupboard as he waited to return to his true home in September. A daydream that became a reality thanks to my father, _your_ Dark Lord. Because of him, I’ve fell to the Dark Arts. I’ve learned the spells, the curses, and most of all your society and culture. And it is with this learning that I can say the following proudly: I despise each and every one of you. I long for the day where I can watch you all die, choking by your backwards beliefs and idiotically toxic ideology.” Harry paused. There was a loud outrage. He smirked at them all, his eyes meeting each pair of angry eyes glared back at them. Calmly he pointed his wand at his throat, repeating the spell he watched Dumbledore use to amplify his voice. “Yes! The pureblooded ideology! Your pitiful belief that having no muggle blood in you makes you superior. That is the most heinous and pitiful thing about your culture. You actually believe that you are superior than half bloods, then muggleborns—because you all would rather keep the blood pure in faux-incestuous marriages instead of reaching out. Look at the Goyles, the Crabbes and the Parkinsons! Look at their spawn and see the ruin that is your own creation!

“The Pureblood Society is nothing, means nothing. It is just hatred, an old and pitiful hatred longing for a past that never existed. You look to the Dark Arts, to my father to bring back your superiority, and instead fall into a dangerous and fatal ideology, become a slave to a man whose concerns are only for his own power. The muggleborns and half-bloods did not make you weak—you have! All of you in your disgusting beliefs have made yourself weaker! And I for one cannot wait to watch you all fall. For without you—without the Parkinsons, the Crabbes, the Goyles, the Greengrasses—without the whole lot of you! Those who rely on hatred and bigotry and call it superiority, with you dead, the world will become a better place. So thank you for coming to my and Draco’s wedding, I hope you all choke.”

 

Dumbledore arrived at Grimmauld Place to find Sirius, Fletcher, Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Tonks sitting worryingly in the kitchen. “How long as he been gone?” he asked, “When was the last you all seen Harry?”

“Last night,” Sirius said, “Harry and I were talking in one of the drawing rooms, I was telling him things his dad and I got into. After that, he went to bed around eleven. I stayed up an hour to finish my drink then I went to bed.”

“I’ve seen him last night too,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. “He helped me with the dishes then said goodnight. He looked rather worried or nervous.”

“He did? He didn’t show me that,” Sirius said.

“Could it be possible that Harry was kidnapped during the night?” Lupin suggested. “This house is almost impenetrable, but it could be possible that You-Know-Who or his followers could have—”

“Harry sleeps with Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said, “they both shared a room. If someone snuck in, it surely would have woken Ron up! And he was the one who told us that Harry wasn’t in his bed.”

“And when was that?” Dumbledore asked. “Do you remember?”

“Around eight I think,” Mrs. Weasley said, “We had to get ready to go visit Arthur at St. Mungo’s.”

“So sometime between eleven in evening and eight in the morning Harry disappeared,” Dumbledore said, sounding very troubled. He looked at Mrs. Weasley, “Where are the children?”

“In their rooms,” Mrs. Weasley said, “this isn’t something they really should hear about.”

“Do you think this is connected to the weapon?” Tonks suggested.

“Perhaps, we do not know for sure,” Dumbledore said. He was silent for a long moment, lost in thought. He then turned to Mrs. Weasley, “I would like to see Harry’s room,” he said.

“Of course, yes,” Mrs. Weasley said. Everyone stood up, the room full of the scrapping of chairs being pushed in. Mrs. Weasley led the small army of adults of the kitchen basement and up the few sets of stairs, quiet and softly so as not to wake the portraits, until they were in front of Harry’s room.

Dumbledore opened the door, and Ron jumped out of his bed, sweaty. “Professor Dumbledore!” he squeaked.

“Sorry to interrupt your napping, Ron,” Dumbledore said good-naturedly. He took out his wand and stopped, looking slowly around the dark, barely decorated room. Mrs. Weasley was making movements to get Ron out of the room, hissing at him but Dumbledore shook his head. “For this, I believe young Ronald can stay,” he said, “they are roommates, and best friends after all.”

“Is this about Harry?” Ron asked. “Did you find him?”

“Ron!”

“It is alright, Molly,” Dumbledore said, “but no we have not find Harry yet. Instead, I would like to look around your room in case there are traces of the Dark Arts.”

With his wand, Dumbledore began muttering to himself, walking slowly around the room tapping the walls and furniture as he went. Every now and again, he would stop at a place and tap it several times before muttering “interesting” or “curious” before moving on. Three times, he surveyed the room, always returning to the same spots, lingering in the dark corners or forgotten spaces that many rooms can have. Every now and again he stopped and whirled around, standing in place as he eyes darted this way and that before turning back again and resumed his muttering and pacing. “There is magic here,” he said, “strong dark magic… magic that is new to this house yet older than anything I have encountered before.”

“Do you know what it is?” Sirius asked. “What took my godson?”

“I do not,” Dumbledore said, “however we may see in a moment. … For I wonder if any of you have also noticed this.”

“What is it?” Sirius asked.

“We are being watched—and by something ingenious I must say so myself,” Dumbledore said. “Never would I have imagined the shadows themselves to be working against us.”

“Shadows? What do you mean?” Sirius demanded. “Dumbledore what is going on!?”

“Patience, Sirius, let me see if I cannot invite a shadow to answer your questions,” Dumbledore said. He looked around, “But there is far too much light in here—Ron, if you would please, be a good lad and close the curtains and extinguish the candles?”

Ron nodded and moved quickly around the room, closing the curtains over the windows and snuffing the candles he had lit. The room became darker, but still easy to look around. Dumbledore turned his wand to the darkest corner of shadow. He started chanting in a language none of them understood, and almost immediately there was a loud howling that filled the room. Dumbledore kept the chanting, as wind magically picked up in the room, sweeping and whirling around, pushing the furniture against the walls and pushed everyone inside, the door slamming shut. The unearthly howling continued, and Mrs. Weasley gave a gasp of shock as red eyes appeared in the corner.

“What is that?” Lupin demanded, but his question went unanswered as the red eyes shook as though in pain. Dumbledore kept his wand aimed at them, and from the corner a shadow, black as night, seemed to be ripped away from the others. Its red eyes moved erratically all over the ripped body, never resting in one place as a slit opened for it to scream. Dumbledore reached out his free hand, fingers stretched out ready to grab the creature. The shadow stretched and tore, struggling to stay in one piece as the red eyes all screamed violently. The others all covered their ears in pain, but Dumbledore kept his focus until, at last, with a great strain the shadow flew into his free hand and he grasped it tightly.

It’s screaming died down as Dumbledore’s wind forced the curtains open and the candles flared to life and light was reintroduced to the room. The dark creature struggled in Dumbledore’s hand. It was long, about two feet, and slender with no real shape as it reminded Sirius simultaneously of rope, a snake, and a very long tongue. Dumbledore pressed his wand against the creature and a cage appeared, locking it in place. It stayed still, any motion of life gone from the creature as it sat in the light.

“What is that?” Lupin repeated breathlessly, staring at it curiously. “I never saw a creature like this…”

“This, I believe, is one of the many creatures that took our young Harry,” Dumbledore said, out of breath.

“But what is it?” Sirius asked.

“From a guess, a creature of shadows,” Dumbledore said. “It seems to prefer the dark, moving in it easily but, as you can see, it is motionless in light. At least that is what I am theorizing.” He moved the cage from the light to a nearby shadowed dresser. He placed it on top and watched as the creature started to move, groggily as if it woke up. Dumbledore took the cage away from the shadows and the creature again laid limp in the light. “Fascinating… it can only move in shadows,” Dumbledore said. “Hand me that candle—we must keep this creature in light at all times.”

Sirius handed Dumbledore the candle and the two men stared at the creature. “This creature will tell us where Harry is,” Dumbledore said, “but until then, we must relax and study this creature closely.”

Sirius looked uneasy but agreed. Glaring at the creature, he said, “If you harmed one hair on my godson, you will be sorry,” and left. Dumbledore followed, his focus on keeping the candle near the cage, his thoughts on his student and worrying for his safety.

 

Harry and Draco were laughing. As soon as Harry finished his speech, darkness overtook them, and the two began to run until they appeared in a bedroom unfamiliar to Harry. It was big with a king’s size bed, two long dressers standing next to each other, and a lavish sitting corner, fireplace, mirrors and nightside tables. “Where are we?” Harry asked.

“A family home in France,” Draco said. “This is where I want us to spend the night, away from everything.” He kissed Harry roughly and guided him to bed. They kicked their shoes off as they kissed, holding onto one another until both were comfortable, cuddling by the pillows. “Did you mean it?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Mean what?” Harry asked.

“Everything you said, about hating everyone… do you mean it?” Draco asked.

Harry frowned. “I do,” he nodded. “All of them… I hate all of them. There are a few exceptions, your parents and our friends obviously, but besides that… I hate them all, including my father.”

“You said you wanted to kill them,” Draco said, looking worried. “I knew you were learning the Dark Arts, but I never saw you so angry…”

“I know,” Harry said, “we both have done terrible things, but… I can still feel it inside me. My anger, my hatred. It’s growing more and more each day. I—I never felt like this before, not since I started learning the Dark Arts.”

“Do you think the Dark Lord might have something to do with this?” Draco asked.

“Most likely,” Harry nodded. “The more he taught me, the easier I found to feel the hatred and anger inside me. It’s like a force just gnawing inside me. Turning me closer and closer into my father, I think.” He sighed and looked at his love. “He told me that I’m a Horcrux. A thing that he made, unintentionally, that sort of holds onto a piece of his soul.”

“Wait… you mean that the Dark Lord’s soul is inside you—like right now?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “and because of that, he cannot die.” He frowned. “And neither can I, not really anyway. He just wants to use me, I think, to keep his soul safe. Because if it’s destroyed, then he can die.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Draco asked.

“Because I love you, because I want to keep you safe, keep us safe,” Harry said. “Everything the Purebloods are doing, everything my father is doing, it’ll just make our world a worse place. You know how Pansy and Greengrass acted, how wrong they are and how angry it made all of us feel.”

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “I’m working so hard to get your friends’ trust and it seems like they can break it at any moment.”

“Well, Voldemort wins, it’ll be worse, much worse. The most extreme beliefs you grew up on will be established I fear…” Harry said.

“So? We can’t exactly kill him, can we?” Draco asked.

“No… at least I don’t think so,” Harry frowned. “But wouldn’t you agree that in the long run it’ll be safer for us… for our family if we leave him?”

Draco thought and nodded, “Yeah love, it is,” he said. He sighed, extremely tired. “So what should we do?”

“Leave my father,” Harry said. “We will tell Dumbledore everything, see if he knows more and if not…” he sighed and took a deep breath, looking Draco in the eye, he said, “if Dumbledore cannot help us, then I will use my father’s training against him. I’ll kill any and all of his followers who will remain loyal to him.”

Draco exhaled slowly. “I’m with you,” he said.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. He snuggled closer and sighed, “I thought wedding nights were all supposed to be about fun and, well, you know.”

“Sex,” Draco said, Harry nodded. “Well… we can try again when we have a real wedding that we plan, in our twenties of course.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, smiling tiredly. “Would you hate me if I fall asleep right now?”

“Harry Potter-Malfoy, there is nothing you can do that will make me hate you,” Draco said. “You’re mine boy, and I love you forever.”

“I love you too,” Harry said. They gazed at each other and Draco gently took Harry’s glasses off. They shared one more kiss before falling into a peaceful sleep, all too aware of the dangers that waited for them on the horizon. Overhead, dark clouds gathered over Britain and France, but, for now, none of that mattered, and all was well.

THE END


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